


The Rain

by GreyPigeon



Series: Godspeed You! Blue Emperor [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beating, Budding Love, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Violence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Figging, Hate Speech, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Restraints, Sexual Violence, Suffering, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyPigeon/pseuds/GreyPigeon
Summary: Yusuke comes back home after discovering Madarame's palace and his sensei's true nature. He knows he's going into a trap, but he has no other choice but return home. After the worst night of abuse he has ever suffered at the hands of his teacher, he is *so* close to losing his mind; thankfully there is one person willing to stay with him and help him through, no matter the cost.VERY DARK MADARAME. Chapter 1 is massive hurt and explicit description of physical and sexual assault, Chapter 2 is a lot of comfort, healing, rescuing and budding love between Ren & Yusuke. You have been warned. Slight AU, but not too much.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Kitagawa Yusuke, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Madarame Ichiryusai, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Godspeed You! Blue Emperor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743862
Comments: 27
Kudos: 152





	1. Evening, May 19. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> This is a beast that tore out of me, don't read it if you feel uncomfortable with the content, as it's really disturbing. Please heed this warning. This chapter contains explicit physical abuse, verbal humiliation meant to subdue the victim, figging, involuntary urinating and masturbation to the sight of someone suffering. I'm not aiming at triggering anyone, just trying to work out some issues.
> 
> I'm halfway through P5 Royal, so this does not contain any spoilers. After finishing Madarame's arc I wondered how did Yusuke contact Madarame after escaping into the Palace with Ann - unless he had the phone in his pocket, that is. I still think that Madarame would probably be furious at Yusuke, he did threaten him too, and we know that he had been starving him and probably beating him too. So this story explores that. 
> 
> And yeah, I have done the most cheesy thing and created the collection of short stories with song titles, so in each story there will be a song or music incorporated into it. "That's Life" is the first one, and "The Rain" follows it. You *can* read it seperately as I tried to explain everything fairly well but probably there will be places where you'll be better off knowing what came before. The series will span the plot of Persona 5, possibly Royal too, and the whole Yusuke confidant arc.
> 
> There will be a shorter epilogue following, I should update it within days. Thanks for reading. Stay well.

**EVENING, MAY 19**  
**WEDNESDAY**

  
Yusuke’s heart was in his throat. 

He saw two workers of the private security company Madarame had hired standing in front of the door of the shack. They have undoubtedly noticed him as he got closer, because one of the guards lifted a short-wave radio to his mouth and passed a quick message on. 

Yusuke froze for a second on the pavement. His sweaty hands balled into fists in his pockets; he knew he has no other option but to head home at this point, even if it was the absolutely last thing he wanted to do. He had nothing on him; his school bag, wallet, student ID, train card, his phone - all of it was left behind in his room, the rather abrupt escape into the Metaverse with Ann being the reason for it. He still could not believe everything that happened in the span of one afternoon. It was improbable, unthinkable, absolutely lunatic. Yusuke had felt like going mad. And yet he knew in his heart, he recognized everything he experienced today to be the truth. 

This quiet, raven-haired boy, Ren Amamiya, offered him a place to stay the night. He understood that things might get heated once he returns home to furious Madarame, he suspected Yusuke might encounter something worse than just a set of uncomfortable questions about where the hell had he disappeared and how the security company had been unable to locate him. But Yusuke politely declined. He had school the next day, he had to change, wash up, pick up his things. 

And... there was this weird longing in him, this very dark feeling he just had to follow; the urge to goad Madarame. To see for himself. To look into his sensei’s eyes in the real world, even if it meant he would hit Yusuke in the face and yell at him, even if it meant another display of abuse, another stream of discontented ranting trying to manipulate him into compliance. He just had to see if there really was the same malice in his eyes as in the Shadow Madarame counterpart. The same evil.

A big part of Yusuke already knew the answer. He knew it from the second he accepted the power of his Persona; when he finally gave in to the urge to rebel, when the accepted that he really had had enough, when the understood that reporting him to the police for nothing is, indeed, the last straw. 

But he just had to. It was stronger than him. 

Or maybe it was just like he said to his friends before; changing Madarame’s heart was the most civil thing he could do for the man who was, in many ways, the closest thing he has ever had to a father. If said changing of heart required sacrifices… then well, he has already decided he would make them.

He was walking into an ambush, he knew. But he almost felt like he _wanted_ it. Like it was this last, necessary step to completion of some sort of terrible artwork, him being the canvas, and if he shied away from the finale, he would never be able to truly feel complete - not now, not in any future, not ever - regardless of how much will be taken from him this time.

He started to walk towards the house. He could feel his heart beating frantically. He was lightheaded. A sudden image of the church in Kanda district flashed in his mind, a sculpture of a man nailed to a cross, with his head hung low in humility.

A lamb for the slaughter. 

A gloved hand clamped at the back of his neck and stopped him in place as soon as he passed the two guards at the threshold to step into the dark corridor inside of the shack. Madarame was already coming down the stairs to meet him.

“You goddamn brat!” An open palm struck him across the face with might, and Yusuke would have tumbled on the wall, if not for the guard behind him. “How dare you?! After everything I have done for you! Where is that girl?!” Madarame yelled.

“I don’t know, we separated,” Yusuke lied, his eyes trained on the floor.

“You’re lying!” Another backhand, on the other cheek. Yusuke gasped at the force of it, lifting a hand to his face; Madarame was absolutely furious. Suddenly the boy was no longer sure he can just take it and see this story unfold to the bitter end. 

“You will answer for this,” Madarame hissed, lifting a finger and pointing it threateningly at Yusuke’s face. “Where have you been? Why did you help her escape? What were you even thinking?!…” Madarame lifted his hand again, but seeing how Yusuke instinctively flinched away he relented and just balled it into a fist in a threatening gesture. “You think you can do as you please in my house? Break in to my storage, question me like that? Spew accusations? What do you have to say for yourself?!”

Yusuke took a deep, shaky breath in. He looked at his sensei, withered with age and trembling in barely contained tantrum, his expression so twisted, so ugly, skewed with rage, marred with countless angry wrinkles on his brow, merging into three sharp, long lines across his usually calm forehead. His eyes were scary. Pupils dilated in fury. Yusuke barely recognized him.

Still, he faced his sensei.

“I apologize for going into the storage room, but the doors were open. We didn’t break in.” He said quietly, holding Madarame’s eyes. “In any case, it may be considered fortunate that I did it. I saw all the counterfeit Sayuri. You were lying to me, sensei. Only now can I see how far you’ve gone.” 

Madarame yelled incomprehensibly and backhanded Yusuke again, so hard that he fell on his knees on the hardwood floor. The guard behind him reached down and lifted Yusuke up by his arm and with a hand fisted into his hair. The boy yelped at the sudden pain in his scalp; it was so abrupt it caught him off guard, and his hands shot up to claw at the unrelenting grip, threatening to tear some strands out.

“You learned to talk back so quickly?” Madarame grabbed the front of Yusuke’s shirt and pulled him closer. “After just a couple of days with these shitheads? Look at you, so easily impressionable! So weak. You’re ready to discard years of my care, all of my hard work for you, all of the sacrifices I’ve made, just so you could _fit_ _in_ to a group of punks! Pathetic.”

Yusuke couldn’t bring himself to answer. He just kept staring at his sensei, feeling involuntary tears well in his eyes from all the pulling at the roots of his hair. It really _hurt_. Almost as bad as the words.

“That’s why you can’t be trusted to be on your own,” Madarame continued, letting go of his shirt. “You are so obtuse, you can’t even see they are using you for their own plans. All they want to do is to disgrace me! Sell gossips to the papers! And you? Why are you helping them? I knew you are on the fucking spectrum, but you cannot possibly be so dumb to think they will like you! Or maybe you think that girl is interested in you? You stupid brat! Are you retarded or something?! You saw a nice pair of tits and bolted out of the car to chase her! Disgusting!”

“That’s not true!” Yusuke yelled and tried to wrench free. He earned himself a forceful tug at his hair which made him see white for a second. 

“Is it not?!” Madarame spat out. “You’re running around like a dog in heat! It’s completely unlike you! But don’t worry, I will cure you soon enough. This is the reason you cannot paint anything of worth lately. We cannot have that, now can we? You’re not good for anything else, so if you can’t even paint on top of everything, what’s the reason to keep you around at all?!”

Madarame gestured to the man behind Yusuke and turned on his heel. The security guard pulled at Yusuke’s arm, never letting go of his hair, and pushed him forward to walk behind Madarame. He tried to wriggle free, but had very little success against a wall of muscle behind him; an attempt to kick the guard or tear his hand away from his grip resulted only in a brutal punch in the stomach. 

Yusuke fought for breath, stumbling and wheezing in the dusty corridor against the choking pain in his solar plexus; using the fact that he went limp and momentarily defenseless, the man bent him forward in half, forcing him to go on with a hard shove. They followed Madarame up the stairs.

There was a small, empty room in the end of the corridor on the first floor. Yusuke recognized it immediately, the old, scratched brown door, and he felt himself going cold. 

Ever since he stopped being a small child and his sporadic bouts of crying or needy behaviour could no longer be tolerated in the public space of the atelier, instead of ordering him to stand in the corner until he calmed down, Madarame would lock him up upstairs in this room. It was completely empty, there was just a small round widow and directly underneath a cast-iron radiator on the wall. Yusuke knew every inch of this room by heart. Every indentation on the walls, every scratch of the floorboards, every stain on the ceiling. He spent far too much time in here as he grew up. Some days entirely without food or anything to drink. Some days nursing painful welts on his backside. Some days just enduring the scary and debilitating time alone, being ignored by his sensei and all of the students, who were forbidden to come close to the door. 

All of the nights in complete darkness. Curled up on the floor, trying to sleep despite his nightmares, without even a blanket or his teddy bear.

Yusuke was pushed into the room so hard that he stumbled and almost landed on the wall, barely managing to steady himself with his outstretched hands. Madarame and the guard entered the small space as well; the door was locked with a silent, ominous _click_.

“Take off your shirt,” Madarame said, reaching to take a thin bamboo stick from where it was propped against the wall. 

Yusuke stared back. He knew what this was about. It had happened a few times before, after all. 

So be it, then. 

He knew full well that resistance will only make him suffer more, maybe even gain serious injuries; that’s what the guard was here for. He wouldn’t in all probability escape either, the man was a beefcake. 

With a dogged expression, holding Madarame’s gaze and never showing how truly afraid he was, he reached with his hands to unbutton his white Kosei uniform. Once he did, he took it off quickly and hanged it neatly on a single nail embedded into the wall. He returned to his spot in front of the radiator; turning around slowly, he bent down in silence, facing the wall, and braced himself on the iron bars. 

“Where have you been all day?” Madarame asked.

“I was with my friends.” 

“ _Where_ have you been?” 

Yusuke took a deep breath to calm himself.

“They took me to a diner.”

Madarame swung at him with force, and the thin stick made a whooshing sound in the air before contacting with Yusuke’s back. He could barely hold back a yelp; it hurt like hell, made his knees buckle momentarily and his skin burn furiously. He held his breath, finally letting it out after a longer while with a quiet grunt.

“Which diner?”

Yusuke swallowed, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

“Ako-beko in Shibuya.” He lied. 

Another hit, straight across his back, in between his shoulder blades. Yusuke grunted through the clenched jaw, closing his eyes and clutching the radiator bars as fast as he could; he felt cold sweat forming on his forehead. It _hurt_. It hurt badly. Madarame wasn’t holding back.

“Did you have fun, Yusuke?” Madarame’s taunting voice tore through the sound of blood pumping in his ears. He shuddered.

“...As a matter of fact, yes, I did.” He said angrily.

All restraint seemed to abandon Madarame as he swung again. The blows fell regularly now, quickly, and with each one Yusuke seemed to glue himself closer to the wall, desperately trying to endure it without screaming. It proved too much though, as the thin, flexible bamboo was bringing powerful, white-hot, stinging pain on his back in intervals too short to allow for recovery. Soon the small room was filled with strained, panting breaths and bit-back yelps of pain. Madarame didn’t seem to care at all what he’s hitting, be it the shoulders, the ribs or the soft, vulnerable lower back, what seemed to be his favourite spot. 

Yusuke was stubborn not to give in, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that if Madarame keeps hitting him there, his kidneys may bruise. With another hurtful blow he decided to spare himself and went down on his knees, hoping that his tormentor will focus on his upper back instead.

He did. The poor, shaking shoulders were soon covered in red welts, and some blows landed on the nape of his neck, which was far more painful than Yusuke ever anticipated it to be. He tried to hold on, pressing his forehead to the cool wall in front of him, trying to think of something else, anything else, but as more and more hits followed, he couldn’t focus at all. His body started to react involuntarily, twitching, trying to defend, to cower, to avoid the lashes or to protect the most sensitive areas. More and more prominent sounds of pain tore from his throat. 

Madarame grunted with content as he saw Yusuke breaking down. He stopped for a minute, trying to calm his breathing; he was out of breath after swinging the cane so much. He kept himself amused for a while by observing the shaking, sweating youth on his knees before him; then with a single, well-aimed, forceful blow of the cane he tore a real scream out of him, as the skin broke and a red welt became an open wound, quickly oozing blood across his back. 

The sound of Yusuke’s scream reverberated through the room. He shook like a leaf, his cheek was pressed to the wall in front of him, and his hands were clenched on the metal bars to the point of his knuckles going completely white. He was tense as a bowstring; when Madarame came closer and touched the hot skin of his back, covered with a net of criss-crossing, raised welts, Yusuke sobbed quietly. The tenderness of the gesture was a pure mockery.

“You will tell me full names of these new friends of yours. You will tell me where they live, and what school do they go to. You will tell me everything about them, and I will sue for trespassing, damage of possessions and defamation. Their influence over you is something to be remedied, and I have had enough. They will either pay proper compensations or go to juvie.” Madarame said, his voice completely calm now, placatory even. “You will focus on your school undisturbed, and on your paintings, as you well should to help me; you have worried me enough, caused me enough grief. Have you no consideration for my health? You know I have a bad heart, and I have been worried sick about you all day.”

Yusuke didn’t answer. Two big, fat tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his sweaty cheeks. He focused on the irregularities in the yellowish, dirty paint in front of him; the wall he remembered so well. The wall which has seen so much.

“The names. Now.” 

Yusuke shook his head. He couldn’t speak through his clenched throat.

“Yusuke.” Madarame’s voice became threatening again.

“I won’t. You can have your goons find this information for you.” Yusuke said in a teary voice through the overwhelming haze of pain. He knew he was basically condemning himself, but he couldn’t stand this smug, fake voice which Madarame used, and any truer reaction, even a violent one, would be more welcome than these poisoned consolations.

The hand on his back dug the fingernails painfully into the irritated skin of his shoulder.

“You are in no position to defy me. You side with them, and I will throw you out on the street.”

Yusuke felt a sharp sting of anger underneath all of the hurt. He raised his eyes slowly at Madarame, giving him a loathsome stare from his spot on the floor.

“Who will paint your works, then? Who will fill the exhibitions under your name?” 

Madarame went pale. 

The shock quickly transformed into rage. Before Yusuke managed to dodge or brace himself, the man bent down with a surprising agility and slammed Yusuke’s head to the wall, so hard that he saw stars and lost control of his own limbs; the force of the blow left him completely dazed and he slid on the floor, nursing the side of his face clumsily and trying to regain the sense of direction. There was a shrill ringing in his ears, his vision was spinning, he didn’t know where is up and where is down.

He didn’t even see Madarame gesturing to the security guard standing next to the door. He barely felt it when a small plastic band was tightened around his left wrist, and then his other palm pried away from his face and clamped in plastic as well. He only understood what is going on when it was too late and two zip ties were connected and his wrists tightly fastened to the metal rod of the radiator. 

“W-what…? No…” he protested, trying to wrench free, but the zip ties only clenched tighter. He felt pain in his hands. His vision returned suddenly, and he realized the guard was behind him, tearing at his remaining clothing, jerking his black pants along with his boxers down his legs. 

“NO! Stop!... Leave me alone!!!” Yusuke screamed in panic, trying to kick the man and wrench free. “Sensei, what are you doing?!” 

Another forceful blow to the stomach silenced him, and he started wheezing, bent in half on his knees. A thin thread of saliva fell from his mouth. He felt like throwing up.

The security guard made quick work with the rest of his clothes and kicked them out of the way to fall into an ungraceful heap under the wall. Standing up so that Yusuke could see him, he slowly undid the belt from his own trousers and wound it around his fist menacingly.

“I really hoped it would not come to this,” Madarame hissed from somewhere behind Yusuke. “But you are behaving like an ungrateful brat, and so you shall be punished like a brat. Begin,” he said with all the calmness and composure in the world.

The security officer smiled sadistically at the frightened look on the boy’s face and swung the belt, aiming at his bare backside. Pain exploded behind Yusuke’s eyes, pain bigger than he knew from any instance of abuse before, the force of the blow so big that it almost squashed him to the floor. He gagged on a scream, realization falling down on him; he took it too far and now he’ll pay the price.

The guard took a step back for a better swing. In complete panic, Yusuke stood up clumsily and tried to wrench his hands free, to run, to get away from this man; due to his panicked thrashing, the blow landed on his thigh. It was even worse. Yusuke couldn’t do anything, the zip ties were clenching tighter with every tug he gave them, chafing on his skin and tearing it raw. He couldn’t stand upright, as the position of his hands forced him to arch his back and bend his knees; he couldn’t see the man properly as he was landing blow after blow on his backside and the back of his thighs. For each frantic movement that Yusuke made against the damned radiator the man would move swiftly around and change the angle to hit somewhere Yusuke could not protect. He was almost too easy a target; thin, underfed body of an artist, delicate bones and fragile limbs, tied up at the wall, left to the mercy of the lasher. 

Each blow was torture. The man moved higher, what made Yusuke yelp and fall on his knees again; the bruised back could not take much more, especially with the bleeding wound. And these were not calculated strikes of an old man; these were not held-back blows that Kobei would give him during the enforced shibari sessions. These were hits of a muscle, meant to punish, to break, to leave heavy bruising and injure. Yusuke had no more air in his lungs from screaming; he gave up the pretense a while ago. The small room was echoing with his cries and a systematic _thwack-thwack-thwack_ of the leather belt. Strength was leaving him rapidly, and Yusuke found he simply cannot keep up with avoiding the blows; he knew that once he falls on his knees, it will be impossible to escape the pain, but he had no strength left. He slid on the floor and cowered there, exposing his right side to defend the rest, bracing himself against yet another blow.

Pain drowned everything and anything else. He could only see whitish explosions of it behind his shut eyelids, he could only hear the sound of the leather belt through the air. Another hit, straight on his unprotected side, just above the kidney. Yusuke thought vaguely that he is going to faint soon. 

He just couldn’t take it anymore. Another blow fell on his fiery red, bruised buttocks, and he hugged the metal bars with a pitiful mewl, his body almost wrapping itself around the radiator as he knelt so close to it on the floor. He welcomed the cold of the cast iron, but had no time to take comfort from it, as another blow between his shoulder blades pushed him harshly into the unyielding metal, his chest chafing against the iron. 

One more blow and he broke down in tears completely.

“Madarame, please,” Yusuke sobbed. “Please, stop it. Sensei... please.” He hid his face in his bound hands not to see his teacher’s face. A powerful shudder wrecked his tense shoulders; he couldn’t be sure if pleading for mercy will have any result. Madarame may just as well have him flogged unconscious. He cowered on the floor, hugging his injured body to the cold bars and weeping.

Madarame lifted a hand, preventing another blow.

“Have you come to your senses?” He asked, his voice icy. “Do you understand now that I make the rules, and you are supposed to listen?”

“Yes, sensei.” 

“Do you have anything to say?”

“I’m sorry, sensei.” 

“And?”

“Please… please, stop. I’m so sorry.” 

“The NAMES, Yusuke!” Madarame yelled. “I want you to tell me the names of those punks, so that I know you have learned your lesson!”

Yusuke just cried harder, feeling utterly hopeless. This was a trap, a loop, a snare; he didn’t want to tell. On a principle. Not because Madarame wouldn’t find out who Ren, Ann and Ryuji were, it was easy enough; but because Yusuke couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

His resistance wouldn’t matter in the long run, there was security footage from the cameras, all Madarame had to do was look through it, see the Shujin uniform and go through the list of second-year peers of the blond half-American girl. A secretary could do that, an intern. Or even better - Madarame could simply check his phone. In fact, now that the thought has occurred to him, Yusuke was sure he had already done it and it was hopeless. 

But this was not about obtaining information, it was about him ratting out his friends. This was about breaking him. And he just couldn’t allow Madarame to do this. 

Feeling cornered and completely resigned, Yusuke shook his head visibly, choking on the tears. He wouldn’t betray his friends. On the other hand, he seriously doubted he could endure any more beating; despair welled up in him, threatened to engulf him whole, body and mind, and all he could think to do was to cry at his own powerlessness, brace himself against more blows and just pray for unconsciousness.

Madarame shook his head at the sound of weeping and the lack of an answer. The security guard shifted his weight, toying with the belt.

“Should I give him one more round?” He asked casually.

“No”, Madarame hissed with venom. “You’ll only hold him still. I didn’t want to do this, Yusuke, as you are all grown up now, but you give me no choice. You brought it upon yourself.”

The guard _chuckled_ as he saw Madarame take something out of his pocket. Yusuke did not see it clearly; his tears stopped abruptly as panic hit him again, this new, unknown assault making the hair on his nape rise. He craned his neck back and saw Madarame approach him with something vividly yellow in his right hand. He screamed in utter dismay as he understood what it is. A peeled ginger root.

The security guard forced a knee under his belly, pushed his backside upward and held onto his thighs, the heavy trekking boot stepping on Yusuke’s calf so that he wouldn’t kick. Madarame stepped on the other leg, putting all of his weight on it. 

“No, no, no, please NO! DON’T!!!” Yusuke yelled at the top of his lungs, trashed wildly, but couldn’t do a single thing as the slim length of the peeled ginger was forced into his anus and held in place there. The insertion itself was just brutal, too quick and too forceful, with no preparation at all, but the initial pain of the push was deafened out almost immediately by a powerful stinging feeling as the ginger burnt his insides. It _stung_ so badly; the hot irritant seemed to flood his senses, seep into his blood with burning pain, making him squirm and shake in the heavy hands that were holding him, cry out and beg to just _take it out_. 

“Now, Yusuke, you are such a child,” Madarame laughed, releasing him and gesturing to the guard to do the same. “And this is how impudent children are supposed to be punished. Don’t start crying now! You brought it upon yourself!”

“Take it out…! Sensei, I beg you, please, take it out…!”

“Names, Yusuke.” Madarame crossed his hands on his chest.

“I can’t take it,” Yusuke wept. “I can’t take it… Sensei… please, PLEASE!”

“Names, you useless shit!” Madarame screamed.

“PLEASE!!! SENSEI!!!” 

Madarame grabbed the cane again and hit Yusuke across his backside, what caused him to clench his muscles and rub even more of the stinging irritant into his insides. Yusuke could no longer put his words into coherent sentences, he just screamed, shaking his head like a maniac, tugging at the accursed zip ties with all of his force. There was blood trickling down his elbows at this point, in thin, crimson rivulets. 

“You… will… obey...me!” Madarame panted, punctuating every word with a hit of the cane. “These shitheads cannot possibly be _that_ important to you!” Another hit. “You are nothing to them! Give it up already!”

Madarame growled, furious at the lack of results and this utter stubborness of his ward. He couldn’t understand that it was already past the point of reasoning, Yusuke was in no condition to give him what he wanted; he just screamed incoherently, waves of hiccupy cry tearing through him. He only wanted this to stop. Madarame waved his hands in the air in sheer exasperation; the guard stepped in, taking the cane out of the old man’s hand. 

“Allow me.”

The first hit made Yusuke curl even tighter, what shouldn’t have been physically possible. The muscles clenching around the ginger root burned, and the stinging feeling seemed to travel further upward, through his spine to his brain. Yusuke cried out weakly, gasping for air with an opened mouth, unable to catch a breath with his blocked nose. The second hit tore a full body shudder and a whiney, high-pitched mewl out of him; his head lolled to the side, eyes closing. Yusuke was praying to pass out. 

Upon the third hit Yusuke felt a weird release of some sorts, as if his abdominal muscles went numb, and something warm trickled on his thigh; a strange, unpleasantly hot liquid poured down his legs and pooled around him on the wooden floor. He vaguely heard Madarame’s disgusted snarl; the guard moved away not to step into the puddle, and Yusuke realized he has just peed himself.

Madarame lost his patience. He huffed one more time, wrinkling his nose at the scent of urine, yelled at Yusuke to clean up after himself and stormed out of the door, slamming it behind him. 

There was a moment of complete silence. 

He didn’t dare to lift his head nor move for a longer while, keeping his eyes firmly closed and subduing his sobs to a minimum. The tears fell freely, shame burning his cheeks and a stubborn tremble never leaving his shoulders; he literally couldn’t stop shaking. The burning irritant was still sending jolts of pain up his insides whenever he moved, so he resigned himself to kneeling as still as possible, just trying to wait until it subsides and trying to calm himself by focusing on breathing. 

After a while he dared to steal a tentative glance down, to assess all the damage. All of his lap was wet. The floorboards were dark around him where the wood absorbed the urine, and he could feel its acrid scent in the air. Yusuke grimaced; he felt pathetic. Filthy. Disgusting. 

Suddenly he heard a weird, tapping noise on his right. He froze; he assumed he has been left alone, but apparently it was only Madarame who had left. The security guard was still in the room. Yusuke had to uncurl and twist his body slightly to be able to see him over his shoulder; the movement caused him pain, but he had to see what the guard was doing, what may be coming next. 

He didn’t expect _that_.

The man was propped against the wall, his trousers unbuckled and his swollen cock held tightly in his hand. He was staring at Yusuke and masturbating. Yusuke’s terrified gasp and his eyes blown wide in absolute horror seemed to only excite him further, as he groaned at his reaction and picked up the pace.

All blood drained from Yusuke’s face. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if there actually is anything he can do to avoid being hurt more, and hurt in _that_ horrible, terrifying way, if there is any action he could take not to encourage the man, who was obviously turned on by his pain and vulnerability. He turned his face away, too frightened to make any sound, and curled back into his previous position hugging the radiator bars, trying to appear as small and inexistent as possible. 

The sounds behind him grew on intensity. There was some shuffling, the sound of a boot kicking the wall, more wet tapping and finally a guttural moan followed by a couple of slow, prolonged, panting breaths. 

Finally, there was just silence.

Yusuke was too scared to move. 

“Gotta hand it to you, I was impressed,” Yusuke heard a low, mocking voice coming from behind. “You took much more than I thought you would.”

There were heavy footsteps. Approaching. Slowly.

“Such a flimsy little thing, and could take one hell of a beating,” the man chuckled and grabbed Yusuke’s face from behind by his chin and pulled his head to rest it on his hip bone; Yusuke squealed in absolute disgust and hysterically tried to wrench free, as the hand was coated with cum. The guard above him chuckled; he held him fast by his hair with the other hand, pressing a bulky knee into the small of his back and smeared his sperm all over the pale face.

“Nnn-nn… NnNOO!” The man just laughed as Yusuke trashed and started spitting, trying to get the horrible liquid out of his mouth. “You are SICK! Let me go!”

“Huh, or what? You’re gonna tell on me?” The guard mocked, fixing a grip in Yusuke’s hair again and forcing him to look upwards, straight into his eyes. “Your sensei won’t care, I guarantee. Look what he did with your hands, little painter.”

Yusuke just trembled, looking at the face of the man above him. He felt tears well up in his eyes. It was the truth; he suddenly became painfully aware of his taut, outstretched hands, tied to the radiator with unforgivable, sharp straps of plastic, both palms swollen and purple in color. There were deep wounds on top of his wrists, bleeding abundantly on the floor and on the cast iron. Both palms looked _mangled_. 

“Well, you didn’t break, so I won’t be breaking you either,” the guard chuckled again; the hand fisted in Yusuke’s hair relaxed suddenly and it stroked his head in a comforting gesture. “But... oh, this was so much fun.” He bared his teeth in a ghastly smile and patted Yusuke’s cheek. 

He let the boy go with a hard push forward, zipped his pants and left. The lock clicked ominously again, as the key was turned inside. 

Afterwards there was only silence. 

Yusuke didn’t move for a long, long while. Just like before, he was too shaken, too afraid to do anything. The awareness of his surroundings and his own battered body came back in waves; the ability to speak and think in a coherent, logical way returned slowly too.

He glanced around the room, making sure he is alone this time. Once he established that he indeed was, Yusuke dared to relax a bit and find a more comfortable position on the floor. The layer of seminal fluid dried into a crust on his face, and he could feel its scent, which nauseated him. There was still pain - everywhere - and some stinging irritation inside of him, but the feeling seemed to fade; he knew it to be the case, as the piece of ginger has seeped all the juices out by now and was more of an uncomfortable, disturbing foreign body than an irritant anymore. He couldn’t take it out, though. The way the root was peeled and carved prevented his body from expelling it on its own.

He inspected his hands. The bleeding looked severe, and there were ragged indentations in his skin, but nothing serious on the inside of his wrists, where the veins were - for which he was grateful. There was nothing he could do to clean himself up, nor could he reach for any piece of his clothing. 

Giving out a strained, shaky sigh, Yusuke resigned himself to the torment of waiting he knew so well from his childhood years. His head rested against the iron bars as if it was a pillow. 

It was already almost dark outside, and the guard had flipped off the switch of the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Yusuke mewled; another night in darkness. He hated it as a child. He was afraid of it. 

He hated it even now.

His eyes scanned the all too familiar floorboards, looking for the indentations and little marks or cuts he had made through the years. He tried to remember what each of them meant at the time, but found that he couldn’t focus on them; he was in too much pain to reminisce those little symbols. He turned to the walls; all the chips in the coat of paint, all the scratches of the furniture which had once been here, all the discoloration from the sun and dust which he knew so well. He found no consolation in the tales of it, like he had used to, imagining the walls to be huge canvases and planning the painting of eventual landscapes - white mountain chains, irregular waves of rice fields covered in snow, shiny heaps of clouds on the pale blue morning skies. 

The tears came on their own. Nothing could console him. He was alone, hurt and defenseless. Locked in the middle of his childhood nightmare, only it was so much worse than that. He didn’t have a way out; he didn’t have a single person he could call, nor means to do it. No one who would be able to get him out of here. No one who would inquire about him, or worry about his absence, except for the school maybe. But knowing Madarame, the questions would be quickly extinguished.

No one.

He thought about two patient hands, wrapping a jacket around his shoulders in the cold classroom. He thought about a brief kiss and a quiet promise.

“Liar,” Yusuke sobbed through his clenched throat. “Liar.”

Because nobody came to find him, in the end.

**~*~**

When the doors to the little room opened again, a couple of hours must have passed and Yusuke had cried himself into an uneasy, watchful sleep. He jolted awake at the sound of the lock turning, hid his hurting eyes in his elbow at the abrupt flash of light, as the switch was flipped on the wall. He cowered on the floor, the last traces of sleep dissipating into panic.

“Easy,” Yusuke heard. “I won’t hurt you.”

It was that other security guard. The one with the walkie-talkie. Yusuke remembered him from the entrance. 

The man came into the room, closed the door behind him quietly and crossed the space of the room in a couple of purposeful steps. Yusuke curled into a ball as best as he could and all but glued himself to the radiator. 

“Madarame is out,” the guard said matter-of factly, searching for something in his pocket. “I doubt he’ll be back at all tonight. I will let you out. Go take a shower and stay in your room. You would do best not to leave there until it’s time to go to school tomorrow.”

He produced a small, steel multitool, extended a short blade from one of the hinges and brought it to the zip ties. Yusuke gave out a small, pitiful sound, but didn’t move, frozen stiff in fear.

“Don’t freak out, kid,” the guard said, cutting the plastic first from one wrist, then the other. “I won’t do anything. Take your things and go get that shower.”

“I… I have to... t-to clean up.” Yusuke whispered, nursing the bloodied wrists and eyeing the floor somberly.

“I’ll do it. Just go.”

Yusuke shot the man a surprised, quick look. 

“Why…?”

The security man bent down to pick up Yusuke’s clothes and passed him the trousers. He gave him a long, sad stare, saying nothing. 

“I didn’t sign up for this.” He said simply to the kneeling figure. “I am just a security officer. I pay attention, so that shit doesn’t get stolen. I am not a fucking jailor. Or a pedo.” He sighed heavily, looking away and turning to the door. 

“I am sorry, kid.” He said over his shoulder. “I really sympathize, but if I breathe a word about this to anyone, I will lose the job. I have three kids to feed and a sick wife. I cannot afford that.”

The man looked a little bit like he expected an answer. In any case, he didn’t walk away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yusuke offered in a quiet voice which was not his own. “I’ll manage.”

“Hey,” the man added with a softer tone, “you just catch some sleep tonight. I will keep watch over the premises, so you’re safe. Tomorrow at school... go to the nurse’s office. Go see the principal. You’ll get help there.”

Yusuke just nodded, feeling totally empty inside. 

“Sure.”

The guard left, giving him some privacy to dress in peace; snatching the first opportunity, he pulled out the offending ginger root out of himself, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. There was no blood, though, so Yusuke didn’t spare a second glance and angrily threw the root out of the window. He pulled on his pants with enormous effort of his battered limbs and buttoned up the shirt, his shaky fingers barely bending at the joints. The clothing chafed unpleasantly on his skin, and the barest touch was a torture; the bruises were already forming and the whole of his back, buttocks and thighs down to his knees was tender, painful to touch or movement. Yusuke realized that he will simply not be able to sit down for eight hours in class tomorrow. 

The house was, indeed, empty. 

There was no car outside, Madarame was gone. Yusuke took a shaky breath in; he was alone. He hid in the bathroom, locked the door and went straight for the sink to wash his face, doing everything in his power to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. As he turned the shower on and stepped in, the water pooled bright red at his feet, blood being washed out from the wound on his back, the torn skin of his knees and the deep cuts at his wrists. After a couple of minutes it turned the beautiful raspberry shade, then slightly pinkish. Yusuke just stood there, looking at it disappearing in the drain. 

His own blood, washed out, diluted. 

Like a watercolor.

There was a cup of steaming hot tea, a first aid kit and a paper bundle laying next to the futon in his room. Yusuke reached for the paper, not knowing what it contained; there was a business card of a cheap worker’s hotel in Shinjuku and a roll of banknotes inside. 

The other security guard must have brought it. 

Yusuke felt grateful. He really did. Or rather, he would, if not for the horrible, gnawing void in his chest, where his heart used to be. He threw the banknotes on the floor and reached for the first-aid kit; the wounds on his hands would not stop bleeding, they kept staining his shirt, so he had to tend to them. He wrapped some pieces of gauze around his wrists, clumsily, just so that it would absorb the blood and hide the cuts. He didn’t really care.

It was the one, single, worst night of his life, comparable only to the night when he found out that his mother had died. The weight of loneliness, of sheer suffering which was clawing at him from the inside, reaching for him from the recesses of his mind, from the shadows of the room, approaching in form of mist from the empty streets of the ugly town outside his window. The amount of physical pain he was in kept him pacing or crawling on the floor in turns; he was unable to lie down, as powerful anxiety kept telling him that once he does, the door will open and the whole ordeal will start once again. 

He kept returning to the window, terrified of the sight or sound of a car pulling up on the gravel driveway. He focused on looking out for any sign of Madarame returning home. Exhaustion was pulling on his eyelids, but the panic would jolt him awake at every smallest sound, be it a stray cat, a night bird or a twig tapping on the window pane. 

He tried to find his phone, to put a song on, or anything else that would keep his thoughts occupied. He couldn’t find it anywhere, though. It only confirmed his theory of Madarame snatching it away. Yusuke sighed; he wouldn’t be able to decide on any music, anyway. A certain tune rattled in his mind, but it was distorted and misshapen, he almost couldn’t remember the melody; it was as if a scratchy record played in his ears. He discarded it hatefully. 

He tried to find some peace by flipping through his favourite art album. The one with a beautiful, detailed photography of “Sayuri” he had showed Ann, Ryuji and Ren on that fateful day they have come to pester him about the plagiarism. Few pages in, and his mind revolted. He found the page with “Sayuri” on it, tore it out, shut the book and focused on tearing the page into the tiniest little pieces. 

As he did that, he felt a cry choke him. He gave in, unable to control himself or calm down. He cried without tears. His eyes simply would not produce any; he must have been dehydrated. He felt like suffocating with this dry, convulsive weeping. 

He bolted on first light, before Madarame managed to come back home.


	2. Morning, May 20. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings from this chapter: a lot of hurt/comfort, detailed medical sequence, some graphic descriptions. References to past abuse. Dealing with trauma. 
> 
> And a lot of love and compassion, so. Enjoy.

**MORNING, MAY 20**  
**THURSDAY**

People flooded Shibuya in rivers. 

Streams and streams of people, pumping through the underground arteries of the city. People rushing to work, going to school, travelling to the airports, banks, business meetings, doctors’ offices. The never-ending, meandering current of faces; young, old, male, female; long-haired people, short-haired people, well-dressed people, poor-looking people. Tired people, invigorated people. Rowdy high-schoolers. Beaming children’s faces, content and quiet retirees. Stressed-out white collars. Apathetic middle-class workers. Drunk builders. Preoccupied, nervous teachers. Overawed tourists, or lost foreigners. Misandric homeless and beggars. Beautiful, aloof women passing by quickly with a loud _clack-clack-clack_ of high heels. An occasional stoned fortune-teller or an unimpressed press reporter fighting the hangover of a decade. 

One bruised artist.

A dark-haired boy in thick, black glasses. Looking at him with concern. Why, though?

So beautiful... 

Yusuke would like to paint him. One day. Someday.

“... you hear me? Yusuke?” The boy was wearing a deepening, serious frown. “Hey. Please, speak to me... Are you alright?”

The boy reached out a hand and shook Yusuke’s shoulder gently. Suddenly the floating consciousness returned, as if a gigantic hoover sucked it abruptly back into the empty husk of his body, and Yusuke wrenched his arm free on instinct, falling back on the glass wall and wincing in pain at the contact. His back hurt.

“D-don’t touch me,” he said quickly, raising his hands up to cover his face in a defensive gesture. 

“Alright, alright, I won’t,” the dark-haired boy lifted both his hands up in the air. “Yusuke, can you even recognize me?”

Yusuke focused his mind with unusual effort. 

“Ren,” he said finally. “Ren-kun.” Yusuke sighed, his eyes focusing a bit more. “What do you want…?”

“I want you to tell me what happened,” Ren said quietly, coming a step closer with his hand outstretched, as if he was approaching a frightened animal. “God, you look terrible... Madarame hurt you, didn’t he? Can you remember what happened?” 

Yusuke only shook his head, trying to gather his sluggish thoughts and give a coherent answer. He couldn’t focus at all. Something was distracting him, something powerful, meddling with his thoughts and blurring his vision. This weird, heavy feeling in his limbs, exhaustion of his body, the weird pain seeping from everywhere, urging him to just fall down already. At least he would be lying then. 

“I called you yesterday,” Ren continued. “I left you a dozen messages. I was worried something like this would happen,” Ren said, trying to take a better look underneath the white hoodie Yusuke was wearing. 

“I’m sorry.” Yusuke answered with something he was able to come up with. “He took my phone.” 

“Madarame?”

A nod. Ren sighed, his brow furrowing even deeper. 

“Yusuke... you have a black eye. You look like death, you’re positively _white_. What did he do to you?”

The lovely, dark eyes, so concerned, so pretty, even in their worried expression. Staring at Yusuke in this unreadable way, with something else than just a simple bother or curiosity; there was a ton of unspoken emotion. Ren seemed terrified. He also looked expectant, scanning the artist up and down, noticing things, biting his lip in a very _guilty_ expression. What did this beautiful boy want from him…? Yusuke was just standing here to watch people. He couldn’t be of any help, couldn’t be any fun, couldn’t be an interesting conversation partner. Especially not today. 

“What are you doing here? Why did you come to the station, of all places?” More questions came. Yusuke thought deeper on their meaning, trying to pick at least one and answer.

“I am... supposed to go to school, of course,” he said. He wondered briefly what time is it. “But I got distracted. I was watching people…. Fascinating variety.”

“How long have you been standing here? Did you even sleep at all?” Ren asked, reaching to his bag to look for something. A black cat peaked over his shoulder, twitching the perfect little ear.

“Ren, he is completely knocked out,” the cat spoke. “He won’t answer… We need to get him out of here.”

A small, glass bottle was pressed into Yusuke’s hand. A bottle of water. 

“Drink this, Yusuke. Hey. Can you hear me?” Ren asked, trying to catch the other boy’s unfocused gaze. 

“Yes,” Yusuke answered. “I hear you quite well... Has the cat just spoken?”

“I am not a cat...” 

“Not now, Morgana,” Ren sighed. “Yusuke. Drink this. It’s water. Just water, come on.”

Yusuke swallowed. Yes, he was quite thirsty; he could use a drink. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long, grateful sip. The bottle was nicely cold and slightly wet, as if straight from the fridge; Ren must have bought it just a few moments ago. The water felt amazing against his torn throat, sore from all the screaming and crying. And it felt amazing in his hand too, cooling the swollen fingers. Yusuke sighed and without thinking twice he lifted the bottle to press it to his forehead and left cheek; it brought such a relief. He closed his eyes for a second, but got distracted again and stared at his right hand instead; why was it hurting so?

Ren noticed the look. He grabbed the palm delicately and inspected it, noticing the edge of a soiled bandage on his wrist, sticking out from under the sleeve. His face sunk. 

“Damn it… I am so sorry, Yusuke. I… I didn’t protect you enough. I should have insisted that you come with me, that you stay the night. It’s… it’s practically my fault. I knew better.”

The hand was rubbing small, gentle circles with his thumb on the top of his bruised, swollen palm. Ren looked him sadly in the eye and a sudden, sharp bolt of current flew from his hand straight to Yusuke’s chest; he could hear a loud sound of heartbeat in his ears, and for a split of a second something deep inside him, some sort of hidden power of entity dormant in his heart reacted to that other boy. It was as if two spiritual forces abruptly met and recognized themselves; one red as flame, angry, passionate, the other bluish and cool. The feeling was gone in an instant, as soon as Yusuke blinked in surprise; he was unsure if it happened at all. 

A powerful gust of wind, generated by a train taking off, made them both shiver in the cold; the unpleasant, moldy smell of the subway permeated the station, intensified at the sudden movement of the air masses.

Yusuke didn’t know if it was the water that cleared his head a bit, the unpleasant smell of rot and the feeling of cold, or if it was that small, gentle touch on the hand that grounded him back in reality; in any case, something made him snap out of his stupor. 

He blinked a couple of times, realizing that he is standing on the station platform in Shibuya, next to the colorful, advertisement-covered wall of the supermarket. He recalled leaving Madarame’s shack in fright, as it was the devil himself who had chased him out; but he couldn’t remember how did he get here. He must have been walking on an autopilot. 

“Um… excuse me,” he said suddenly, turning to Ren. “I didn’t quite catch what you were saying…?”

Ren sighed, dispirited, letting go of Yusuke’s palm.

“I’m saying that I knew better,” Ren repeated. “I just knew that this bastard will take it out on you as soon as you come home. And I did nothing to stop it.”

Yusuke considered Ren’s words in his mind. He couldn’t understand how anything that happened last night was Ren’s fault, but somehow the boy in front of him was taking responsibility for it. Yusuke couldn’t agree. It wasn’t fair. He had to react.

Besides. Ren hardly could have predicted _that_. “That’s absurd... You couldn’t have known what he’s going to do. And you couldn’t have prevented it.” Yusuke said quietly. Ren’s eyes widened at hearing a comprehensible reaction. 

“Yusuke?” he whispered.

“Nothing that has happened is your fault. If anything, it is only mine.” Yusuke sighed in turn. “I’m sorry to have worried you… I am a little sleep-deprived. I may have acted… unusually before. Forgive me.”

“He snapped out of it,” Morgana said with relief. Ren dared a little smile, reaching for Yusuke’s hand again. 

“You recognize me, yes?” Ren wanted to make sure. A nod came. “Good, that’s good. Yusuke, why don’t we sit down for a moment? Have you eaten any breakfast?” 

He pulled him towards the yellow bench with a row of plastic seats that was placed in the platform a little bit to the right, in the waiting area. Yusuke dug his heels to the ground.

“Ren, I really appreciate your concern, but I still need to attend my classes. So do you, for that matter. What… what time is it…? Oh no, I’m probably late already...” Yusuke said, lifting a hand to his face and rubbing gently at his teary, bruised eye. The skin there was very tender and hot to the touch, and the eye itself was itchy from the hair constantly falling into it; Yusuke wanted to be clever and tried to brush his bangs in a way that would hide the bruise more, but truth be told, he wasn’t sure if it was working.

“Yusuke, you can’t possibly go to school like this,” Ren reasoned calmly. “You have bruises on your face, bandages sticking out of your sleeves, you look completely knocked out. The nurse will snatch you first thing upon entering, and if not, you will likely pass out during class and end up in the infirmary anyway. They will call Madarame, question him, and he will only beat you up again for causing trouble. And probably lock you up. It’s the last thing you want. It’s the last thing *I* want, in fact, I simply won’t let you.”

“But… Ren, you don’t understand... Attendance issue is taken very seriously in Kosei. I absolutely cannot mess with it. I have to go. Thank you for your concern, though. We shall… see each other later, right…?” Yusuke took a step forward to the platform, trying to figure out which train is he supposed to take and what hour is it, exactly. His knees buckled; he gasped, but managed to stay upright by some miracle. He found a clock on the station wall. He couldn’t see the digits; his vision was swimming.

He heard Ren gasp loudly behind him; suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in mid-step, and a notebook pressed to his back at the level of his shoulder blades. 

“What… what are you doing?” Yusuke asked, completely dumbfounded.

“You have blood on your back. You are coming with me, end of story. Now.” 

Ren turned Yusuke around in a swift motion, and keeping the notebook promptly at the height of his scapulas he led the way, steering Yusuke away from the trains and into the underground walkway. Dumbstruck at first, but astonished by Ren’s decisiveness, Yusuke just followed; as they started walking, however, and his battered body was forced to hold his weight in movement, he came to understand how bad was he feeling. The truth was, he probably wouldn’t even make it to Kosei. 

“Do you have your railcard?” Ren asked at the gate. Yusuke fumbled for the card in the pocket of his trousers, and produced it finally with a lot of effort. A sudden thought struck that people passing them by must think he is drunk or high; the idea was distressing.

Ren got them both out of the station and held on to Yusuke’s card for now. As the gate beeped and they were both out, the painter stumbled on the patch of an uneven pavement; Ren was there to catch him. He gave Yusuke a worried look, slowing down and matching the rhythm of their steps. 

“Not far now.” He whispered. “Hang on.”

Yusuke tried. It was harder and harder to move his legs, or fight with the dizziness that settled upon him with all might, but he tried.

He quickly understood where they were going; it was one of the rare single bathrooms on the station, the toilet for the disabled, placed conveniently in the corner next to the flower shop. Not caring for any witnesses, Ren opened the door and ushered Yusuke in. As if on cue, Morgana jumped out of the bag to keep watch in front of the door. Ren locked the bathroom from the inside.

“Okay, I know these are not the perfect conditions, but it will have to do for the moment,” Ren said apologetically, putting his bag on the low shelf next to the sink and helping Yusuke to discard his own. From the outside compartment of his bag Ren took out a flat, wide zip-up purse, and from there all sorts of first-aid items; bandages, plasters, a bottle of spray disinfectant, tiny scissors. 

“Since when do you carry the hospital with you…?” Yusuke asked, astonished, bracing himself on the sink.

“Old habits die hard,” Ren muttered. “Besides, ever since we started going to the Metaverse, I just feel a bit more calm when I have this stuff on me.” 

Yusuke hummed in response, doing his best not to fall over. Ren noticed how stiffly Yusuke is holding himself, and when they were walking before he could clearly see the exhaustion, disorientation and the strange way he kept avoiding any touch on his back; Ren concluded that whatever Yusuke had covered with the bandages on his hands was clearly not the end of his injuries.

Quietly asking for permission, Ren removed the hood. Yusuke could only stare at his own reflection in the mirror in front of him - something he tried to avoid up to this point. There was a huge, purple bruise around his left eye, extending down almost to the half of his cheek. It looked morbidly. His eyes were fiery red and very small after so much crying, as if sunken. There were dark circles under his eyes, contrasting sharply with the unusually pale, grayish skin; a brownish wound stained the cupid’s bow of his mouth, where his upper lip had burst open. 

“Ah… It would seem he gave me quite a make-up.” Yusuke said bitterly. “I am… so sorry. I don’t even want to contemplate what you must think of me now.” He hung his head low.

“I am full of admiration that you didn’t hit him back.” Ren muttered. “We’re going to need some ice for this... Take off the hoodie, I’ll help you with the stains later.”

Yusuke straightened slowly and unzipped the hoodie, but taking it off proved to be a challenge due to his beaten, bruised shoulders. Ren was by his side immediately; together they freed one hand from the sleeve and pulled the hoodie down the other arm. As the garment came off, it revealed even more blood straight across the back on the pristine white Kosei uniform.

“Why is there blood on your back, what the hell happened?” Ren asked, his voice seriously concerned; as he put the hoodie on the shelf, Yusuke could see the longish stain exactly in the centre of his back. He wondered if people had seen it.

They settled on removing the shirt as well. Ren hummed questioningly, urging Yusuke to answer.

“It’s a… ugh. I really would rather not talk about it,” Yusuke said quietly. “Even without the backstory, this whole situation is just... intolerable.”

There was a pat on his shoulder, a huff and a small smile from Ren. “I know what you mean; you barely even know me, and here I am, undressing you in a public toilet. Cliché, I know. One could think I am making a pass on you or something.”

Yusuke smiled very weakly, moving his arms as directed; he knew Ren is trying to light up the mood.

“Your self-confidence is incredible,” he said. “I’m grateful. Otherwise this whole thing would be… Oh God... I feel utterly embarrassed, I’m so sorry,” Yusuke grunted in pain when it came to removing the sleeve again.

“Don’t apologize. Don’t think about it. No one will disturb us, and Morgana keeps watch.” Ren could only hope that his voice is calming, as something primal and very ugly awakened in him upon seeing the rich tapestry of multicoloured bruises and bloodshot hematomas on Yusuke’s back. 

The cut across, just below his shoulders, had been burst open; it was reddish and irritated, seeping blood due to the clothes and the school bag rubbing on it. Ren’s experienced eye knew it is not severe enough to require stitches, but the laceration looked horrible anyway. A lot of blood leaked down Yusuke’s back and got smeared everywhere in the process. In places where it coagulated, it stained his skin brownish red. It was difficult to see any flesh which was not marred by dried blood or bruises, really.

“Holy. Shit.” Ren had to take a minute. “Yusuke… I can try to patch you up, but I really think we should go see a doctor.”

“No… Please, no. I don’t want to.” 

Ren shook his head, reaching for a sterile gauze. 

“You don’t need to be afraid. I know a good doctor, she has helped me before. We have a… well, an arrangement, of sorts. Anyway, she owes me. She can keep a secret.” He suggested.

“Ren, a doctor won’t tell me anything I don’t know myself. I just…” Yusuke turned slightly around, trying to see his back in the mirror and asses the damage. Once he did, his eyes widened in shock and he started to sway on his feet.

“Whoa, slowly,” Ren caught him in the middle as he lost his footing; feeling him slip on the tiled floor, Ren wrapped his arms tighter around him and lowered him down gently, so that he would kneel instead of falling face first. Yusuke clutched onto Ren’s jacket for stability, hiding his face in the crook of his arm.

“...No doctor,” he asked tearfully. Ren fought to remain calm, to be able to focus and help him; it really took everything he had, as he stared at the trembling hand fisted in his clothing.

“Alright,” he said finally, gritting his teeth. “Hold on to this, and just let me tend to you.” Ren helped Yusuke to prop himself with his hands on the sink shelf, while remaining kneeling. It seemed to be a more stable position. 

Yusuke complied. Turning his puffy, tired eyes to Ren, he wordlessly watched him take the gauze and wet it in cold water, then start cleaning his back. It brought some relief; the touch of the cold cloth over the bruises felt good. The cleaning took a while, as the blood was not so easy to wash off and Ren did not want to rub too hard. Yusuke gradually calmed down, feeling that Ren’s touch is very gentle and aimed only to help, not to cause him any more discomfort; every time Ren’s hands would move to a different place, he would tell him about it, each time he had to change the gauze or grab some other thing he would inform him. In quick, quiet words Ren was guiding Yusuke through what he was doing and it was great, because it left nothing to imagine and be afraid about. 

Ren spritzed the back with the disinfectant next, which was also pleasantly cold; it took a while to dry, bringing more reprieve. Once it dried, Ren settled on patching up the gash across Yusuke’s back with a row of small, clever band-aids which kept the edges of the wound together. This was a bit less pleasant, but bearable.

“Okay, you’re good. I’ll dress it now.” Ren asked, reaching for more sterile dressings and ripping the packages. “What did he hit you with? A fucking baseball bat?”

“A belt.” Yusuke mumbled, his mouth pressed to his forearm. 

Ren arched an eyebrow, arranging the dressings directly on top of the laceration and reaching for an elasticated bandage. He didn’t ask the question, but Yusuke felt like he owes him an explanation of some sorts, now that Ren was dressing his wounds and all. 

“I couldn’t run.” He said, lifting his left hand and showing the soiled bandage on his wrist. “He had me tied. And I know what you think... He’s so old, I could have easily tackled him and run… but I couldn’t break free, and… it was the security officer. From this... private company he had hired.”

Ren shot him a look, stopping his hands for a while.

“The security guard beat you up? Not Madarame?” He asked incredulously, looking at Yusuke’s eyes in the mirror.

“Madarame too.” He answered, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. “They kind of took turns.”

It took all of Ren’s self control not to punch the wall, or wrap Yusuke in a crushing embrace; he realized though that this would do more harm than good, so he just cursed under his breath and forced himself to return to the task at hand. He sighed, wrapping the elastic band around Yusuke’s torso two more times. 

“Mothefucking bastard.” He hissed, not looking at Yusuke. “He will rot in jail after we make him confess.”

Yusuke didn’t answer. He wasn’t so sure anymore if he has the strength to do it, to stand up to him once again and battle to change Madarame’s heart. He couldn’t admit it to Ren, though; he could barely admit it to himself. He was too tired to think, too scared to consider what will he do in the evening, let alone in the upcoming days.

How will he pull himself out of this...?

Ren took one of his wrists gently in hand and unwrapped the short pieces of bandage; he grimaced at the sight, put Yusuke’s hand in the sink and washed it gently with lukewarm water. Dabbing it dry with a fresh piece of gauze, he noticed Yusuke's eyes on him, following his every move.

“Zip tie, right?”

Yusuke nodded.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” Ren sighed. He disinfected the deep cut and wrapped a clean bandage around it, in a proper manner. “Give me the other hand, please.”

It received the same patient treatment as the first. Yusuke marvelled at the skill of Ren’s fingers, so thorough, so careful not to hurt, so considerate. It reminded him of other hands. Kind hands that would wrap a jacket around his shoulders, ones which would give him water to drink when he couldn’t move an inch, or put a cube of chocolate in his mouth. Considerate hands which would brush his hair out of the way, stroking his cheek, leaving a promise. 

_Hang in there. I’ll come find you._

Yusuke frowned at the memory and mentally berated himself at still relishing it, even after yesterday; he was not supposed to think about it. This mysterious person never came. No one found him. 

He had probably been just a fleeting interest to that other boy; as good-natured as he was, he had probably moved on and all but forgot about the whole thing by now. No. Yusuke was alone. 

As the small knot was tied and the bandaged hand put gingerly down, Yusuke braced himself to get up, but Ren stopped him.

“Wait. For the bruises, I have a good ointment here… it has arnica in it, helps them fade away. And menthol too, so it’s pleasantly cool. You going to be ok if I rub it on your back?”

Yusuke froze for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I’m not thrilled with the idea.”

“I figured, but... you’re not going to be able to reach everywhere yourself. Maybe just let me do it? I’ll be quick about it.” Ren promised. Yusuke was uncertain, but nodded his agreement. 

Yusuke sighed and closed his eyes for a moment; Ren warmed a generous amount of the ointment in his hands before touching Yusuke’s back and started to rub systematically in small circles, spreading even amounts. He palpated very tender skin and deeply bruised tissue, so it was bound to hurt a little, but Ren did his best. He was sure to reach as far as the artist’s neck, where he saw a violet patch of bruising on Yusuke’s nape. He gently omitted the bandaged area, being careful not to soil it with the medicinal cream. As he reached lower to tend to the ribcage, he knelt on the floor as well and Yusuke stopped seeing him in the mirror. Yusuke craned his neck down to look; Ren’s brow was furrowed as he worked, focused on the task at hand and clearly upset.

With a warm, sticky palm at the small of his back, Ren looked Yusuke in the eye.

“This should do it. Can you feel the cooling effect?” Yusuke nodded. It was a welcome sensation, it took away a lot of the discomfort. “Good. Now, I’ll help you stand, ok? You can tend to the rest yourself while I’ll take care of the hoodie.”

“The… rest?” Yusuke asked, unsure of what he should do.

Ren’s eyes were sad and telling.

“I know the bruises don’t end there. Just rub as much as you need into… well, lower areas. Okay?” he asked, watching Yusuke carefully. “Unless… unless you have cut wounds there as well?”

“I don’t think so.” Yusuke whispered, turning his eyes away in shame. He tried to stand up, and though Ren came to his aid immediately, he stopped him gently; he took a deep breath and managed to stand on his own. He was dizzy, though, and had to recover for a minute.

Ren put the ointment within easy reach and examined the hoodie. The stain wasn’t very big, in comparison to the ones on the shirt, so just a bit of cold water and hand soap did the trick. The shirt however was probably ruined. Ren sighed and started digging in his bag again. 

Yusuke moved away from the sink, grabbing the ointment and moving back towards the wall, unsure of how to proceed. He had to take down his pants, but doing so in front of Ren was more than he could bear at this moment. 

Amamiya didn’t seem to be bothered, though; he put the shirt into the sink and poured something all over the stains, focusing his eyes promptly down.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to look,” he said finally, detecting no movement from Yusuke. “Just do it. It’s not a big deal. I won’t mind and I promise never to mention it.”

That apparently worked, because Yusuke stirred and reached down to slide down his pants and boxers down to his knees. Ren kept his promise and did not look, lathering the shirt with some soap and rinsing. Unsatisfied, he poured some more of the clear liquid from the plastic bottle and waited; it started to fizz a little.

“What’s that?” Yusuke asked glancing towards the fizzing stain. He was slowly massaging his aching backside with the ointment, trying to overcome the increasing shaking of his hands and distract himself somehow not to go into a fit of panic.

“Hydrogen peroxide,” Ren answered. “Easy enough to get, it’s in every cosmetics shop and every drugstore. Works wonders for bloodstains.” 

“You know an awful lot about this,” Yusuke muttered, closing a cap on the ointment bottle and reaching to fix his undergarments. 

Ren did not answer. 

“Okay, I think that will do it,” Yusuke whispered, coming closer to the sink in need of washing his hands and leaning on the shelf heavily; he was shaking all over, unable to meet Ren’s eye. He looked like he was ready to pass out.

“Deep breaths, Yusuke. Deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re safe. Everything is going to be alright.” Ren said calmly, noticing his state, but allowing him to fight it on his own. Yusuke was thankful. He wasn’t sure if he could handle any touch now, reassuring or not. 

“I’ll be done in a minute… sadly, this won’t get any better than this. We only need to dry it some.” Ren said, rinsing the shirt; there was a faint ghost of a stain there, but it was easy enough to dismiss should Yusuke need to take his hoodie off. Ren brought the shirt to the hand dryer on the wall. 

Waiting for it to dry under the rushing hot air, Ren wondered what their next step should be. He glanced towards his exhausted companion, staring at his reflection in the mirror with apathy so deep that Ren was scared for him. He didn’t know what had happened in Madarame’s shack except for the obvious things he managed to discern from his injuries, but he had his suspicions. There was this look in his eyes, indicating that something huge went down. 

But even in pain, even when unable to walk as gracefully as usual, even colored purple and grey with the awful bruises or rendered silent and unresponsive from the burden he was carrying, Yusuke was just... beautiful. 

All of the hurt, which any other person would describe as ugly, in Ren’s eye made Yusuke look only distant and melancholic; there was nothing unsightly about his shaking fingers, nothing shameful in his wobbly step, nothing ugly in the black eye. True, Yusuke did look crushed, like a porcelain figurine which was stepped on, but there was something deeply human, raw and true about the way he fought to remain standing. There was this clandestine, unbroken light in his eyes, indicating that he had a heart; a real, feeling heart, a true spirit, a pure soul. Because if he could be hurt that badly and still choose to stand, he surely must have had one. 

His suffering, Ren thought with some fright, was dignified. It was beautiful. And it was probably the very thing that drove Madarame to such violence. Was it jealousy? The need to destroy something he himself no longer had, or maybe never achieved? Or was it some misguided, terrible experiment, aimed at testing how far he could push that beautiful soul until he breaks and becomes distorted? A sickening attempt to _feel_ again, to understand his own twisted mind? 

Ren did not know, but he knew he has to save Yusuke before it is too late. 

He hoped it’s not too late already.

Ren had an idea rattling around his head, but he knew it to be a foolish one; in complete theory, they could quickly visit Mementos to cast some healing spells. But it could be an ill advice. There was only him and Morgana, Yusuke has never even seen Mementos, and he was in no shape at all to put up a fight if needed; the transformation itself or wielding a Persona could prove too much and drain him completely. Ren was not an expert yet in navigating this strange world; Morgana has only showed it to them a week or two ago and they had proceeded very cautiously, only reaching a third level or so. They needed more manpower if they were to do this. 

They had to wait out somewhere, until Ann and Ryuji finish classes, so that the four of them could take Yusuke to the Metaverse and then heal him. In the meantime, they needed a safe place, away from prying eyes, away from any police officers which might inquire why they are not at school. A safe place, preferably one where Yusuke could lay down and catch some sleep; a nice place, which would soothe his nerves, as he was clearly on his wit’s end. 

An idea struck. Ren smiled; he knew just where to take him.

“Okay, this won’t get any more dry,” Ren said, lifting the shirt up so that Yusuke could put his arms into the sleeves. The boy looked at him with a sigh, threw out a paper towel which he was using to dry his face from cold sweat and turned around to extend his hands back and aim at the armholes.

Ren arranged the shirt over his shoulders and moved to the front to button it up. Yusuke didn’t protest; he was exhausted past the point of caring, and if he was to be dressed like a child, so be it. The hoodie was put on in a similar manner. Ren zipped him up and settled for quickly packing up the medical supplies; Yusuke pulled the hood over his head.

“Have you eaten any breakfast?” he asked, and Yusuke shook his head no. “It’s good then that I have brought some bentō. You need to eat, have something warm to drink and take something for the pain, in that order. We’ll grab something on the station, but we cannot stay here long; the police will notice our uniforms and we’re going to be questioned. So… just trust me on this, I’ll take you somewhere safe, okay?”

Yusuke’s look was distraught.

“I’m only putting you in harm’s way. You’re going to have problems at school. What are they going to say about your absence?” He asked in a sullen voice.

“I’m not really worried about it,” Ren smirked. “My homeroom teacher is going to cover for me. Kawakami is… erm… Well, we have a deal.”

Yusuke looked at him incredulously; he huffed out a small laugh. 

“Mephistopheles.” He said more to himself than to Ren.

“I prefer to think I’m more like a regular Woland,” Amamiya laughed and flung Yusuke’s arm over his shoulder. “Now, trust me on this. I will take care of you.”

**~*~**

The train was running swiftly, with a familiar, repetitive clatter, which made Yusuke even more sleepy. He was dozing off, almost, swaying on his feet in the mostly empty compartment; Ren has put them both into the wagon, thrusting a single paper ticket into Yusuke’s hand and guiding him through the gates and doors. The poor, battered artist had absolutely no idea where were they going, but he trusted him, obeying the commands and going wherever Ren guided. He couldn’t really explain why, but he did so. Without question.

Ren had tried to coax him to sit down, but Yusuke wouldn’t hear it. He preferred to stand; it was much less painful that way, even if it was exhausting him. Yusuke held on to the railing and Ren provided additional support; there was a warm, steady hand encircling him, resting on Yusuke’s hip, beckoning him to lean down on the slightly shorter boy. Yusuke discovered with some surprise that he doesn’t mind it at all. Morgana kept very quiet, hiding in the bag, so that they wouldn’t pay an additional fee for transporting a pet; therefore no snappy comment came at witnessing their proximity.

Yusuke didn’t manage to eat, as his stomach was rather unappreciative of the train’s motion today. Usually Yusuke did not suffer from motion sickness, but this day was, apparently, an exception on so many levels. However, he did gulp down almost all of the hot herbal brew which Ren had picked for him at the small booth with vegan cocktails and smoothies in Shibuya’s walkway; it had a pleasant, slightly sweet taste and was of pale green color. Ren explained that it’s made of a herb called lemon balm. Yusuke has heard somewhere before that it was one of the herbs used for calming the nerves and alleviating anxieties; he couldn’t be sure it worked, but the hot beverage aided his upset stomach and washed down the painkillers, which were slowly, gradually taking effect during their half-an-hour long train ride. 

Yusuke swayed, caught himself just in time and grabbed the paper cup firmer not to spill anything; he was so tired. Ren murmured a quiet ‘lean on me’ to him, and Yusuke did, feeling almost unable to stay awake any longer. The only reason he was not asleep already was probably a small plastic bag with melting ice cubes pressed to his left cheek. Ren had managed to get some ice for free from the smiling hostess in the smoothie booth. 

Miraculously, the train ride ended soon; Ren led him out to the sunny platform, and then, discarding the almost empty cup of tea and the melted ice, they left the station to enter the vivid green, airy space of something that looked like an endless garden. Yusuke lifted his eyes at the platform sign; it read Inokashira Station. 

Ren has brought him to the park.

Taking a deep breath of fresh, clean air, Yusuke felt as if he had left some sort of hellhole, being lifted body and soul from the dusty, littered, neon garishness of the city; he felt like entering a sacred, blooming garden of Eden. Everything was so much more _beautiful_ here. The air was fragrant. The grass was green. There were blossoming trees and shrubs everywhere, birdsong and laughter in the air, and Ren led the way in, deeper into the unfolding, tranquil beauty of May. And it was just the entrance. 

Yusuke sighed with awe, leaning on his friend’s shoulder.

Though with difficulty, he kept walking. He vaguely registered Morgana saying something; he was too busy ingesting all of the sights to understand what it was about. He marvelled at the blooming nature around him, the warm rays of the sun on his skin, the colorful stream of tourists spilling into the widening path. Had he more strength, he would lift his fingers to try to frame the wonders he was seeing into imaginary boundaries of canvas. 

Ren led him up the winding path from the station into the park entrance, up the long, slowly ascending stairs divided with a metal railing. Somewhere along the way there was a ticket booth, where Ren paid for their entrance fee; Yusuke stood calmly when he was instructed to and started walking on command too. He was in a haze. But it was no longer haze of pain.

Disappearing in the crowd of tourists and mingling among them for convenient anonymity, the two made their way down the path circling the lake and into the less frequented back roads, shaded by the tall sycamore trees and plentiful greenery. Yusuke had a small smile on his lips; he didn’t mind the walking anymore, as long as he could see these wonders. The pain in his legs was mostly gone, anyway. He got distracted with watching one particularly big tree, where some squirrels were chasing each other around the trunk, when Ren spoke to him.

“Yusuke, you still with me? How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” he said, and though the vacant look in his eyes worried Ren a lot, he let go of the artist to prop him against a wooden fence.

“Wait for me here, okay? I’ll be back in a minute. You will lie down very soon, I promise.” Ren tried to catch Yusuke’s eye, but it seemed like the boy slipped back to the unresponsive, absent mode from before. “Yusuke? Wait here, okay?”

“Okay,” Yusuke answered, still watching the squirrels.

“Ren, just go, it will be fine,” Morgana said cheerfully and hopped from the bag to land gracefully at Yusuke’s feet. “I’m here, I’ll keep an eye on him.” 

Ren nodded and went up to a tiny, wooden house which served as a cafeteria. The house was painted white, had potted flowers on the window sills and there was such a lovely rural aura around it that Ren wished Yusuke was more lucid to notice and appreciate it. There were a couple of outdoor tables put up, and on each backrest there was a nice, plush, green blanket.

The girl working in the cafe was nice. She allowed him to take two blankets with a smile, blinking and suggesting merrily that he might have skipped school just to come here with his crush during the off-peak hours. ‘You’re not wrong’, Ren told her with a guilty smile, deciding to buy some sweets as well and settling for chocolate mochi and some mixed dango donuts. 

Bringing the sweet prize back to Yusuke, he noticed that the artist has picked Morgana up into his arms and was petting him absentmindedly; normally freaked out at such behaviour, Morgana was now more docile than ever, explaining something calmly and putting one paw on the boy’s chest, looking at him carefully. Yusuke was giving out a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes; he just stroked the anthracite fur in a slow, delicate motion, his graceful hands trailing the small ears and shapely head as if he tried to memorize it by the touch alone.

“Hey. Let’s go,” Ren said quietly; Both of his hands were full with blankets and the paper plate full of sweets, but hopefully the scent of food was enough to wake Yusuke up and make him follow the trail. 

Ren led the way in between the lilac bushes, a little bit up the hill; there was a small clearing on the hill just above the cafeteria, with a great view on the lower parts of the park and at a small shell theater, where some sort of rehearsal was taking place. A gentle, merry melody spun by a dozen of strings and a clarinet reached them with the wind. Amamiya smirked; this couldn’t have been any better. 

He put the bags and sweets down, spread both blankets on the sunny patch of grass beneath the lilacs and turned to Yusuke, who was approaching slowly with Morgana in his arms.

“Come now. You can lie down safely.” 

Morgana jumped down straight on the blankets, cheering shrilly and checking out the perimeter of the blanket just like a cat would; regardless of what he was insisting on, the animal form suited him and more often than not he must have felt good in his feline skin. Noticing the sweets, Morgana meowed in excitement and went straight for one dango, snatching it from the paper plate with his paw.

Yusuke gratefully took the offered hand and slowly knelt on the edge of the blanket, going down on all fours. As he took in the sight below, the park bathed in sunlight, pink and white blossom on the trees, fragrant lilacs and so much _green_ , he almost sobbed; the sound that tore from his throat made Ren move closer in a desperate, barely contained attempt to hug him.

“It’s amazing… I do not come here enough,” Yusuke whispered.

Delicate harmony of violins and cellos reached them; the rehearsal commenced with a new melody, and a slow, peaceful music of some movie soundtrack enveloped them from below, heard very clearly even here. Warm wind brought in sounds of cheering and some clapping of the group of overawed tourists.

“It’s almost like we are in the balcony lounge of a theatre,” Yusuke commented with a smile. “I can’t believe it.”

“You better do,” Ren smirked, taking off his shoes and stepping on the blanket. “I hauled your bony ass here through half the city, just so you could witness it.”

The sun came out from behind a cloud and flooded the clearing with golden glow. Ren’s face was radiant; his unruly, curly hair stuck out in all directions, as he casually propped himself on one elbow and stretched his legs out. 

“And I appreciate it,” Yusuke said, a wave of emotion overwhelming him for a second. “Especially that you didn’t haul me, but rather nursed me through the road. You are the most committed caregiver.”

“Oh stop it, you,” Ren pretended that it didn’t touch him, hiding his slight blush by turning away and digging through his bag again. “There. You really should eat something. It’s not much, but it will serve as breakfast.” He passed the homemade bentō to him; Yusuke tried to sit awkwardly, settling for a half-lying position on his side. He opened the small oval box to reveal some fried rice with spring onion, portion of steamed vegetables and pickles, two onigiri and strips of smoked fish on the side. Ren passed him the chopsticks.

Yusuke looked like he was about to cry. 

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked, alarmed by his reaction.

“No… nothing. It’s just, I think… I have only had bentō a couple of times in my life before. Did you make this yourself…?”

Ren blushed crimson this time. 

“As much as I would like to say yes and take the credit, I didn’t. Sojirō made it for me.” He admitted. 

“Who is Sojirō?” Yusuke asked timidly, taking the chopsticks into his trembling fingers and arranging them clumsily; his hands were swollen and he had some difficulty wielding the slim tools.

“He is… my temporary guardian. He took me in; I live in the attic of his coffee shop. He’s a good guy. You’re gonna meet him,” Ren said, reclining again and observing Yusuke as he started to eat slowly. Morgana begun to circle dangerously close to the smoked fish, and Ren frowned in feigned annoyance; Yusuke gave out a small laugh and offered Morgana a piece on his extended palm. 

“Sōjirō is indeed a good guy,” Morgana chittered. “Always remembers to put in some decent fish there.”

“Well, not always,” Ren mused. “He makes bentō for me sometimes, when he is in a good mood, but it’s not an everyday situation. Usually it’s just curry, for breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner.”

“Boss’ curry is really the best, you should appreciate it,” Morgana said, sniffing for more fish and fawning Yusuke’s arm. Ren shook his head at this.

“He sounds like an interesting person,” Yusuke smiled, giving Morgana more fish and nibbling on the rice. “It must be a reassuring feeling to have someone make food for you, even if it’s only sometimes. After all, it is a sign of affection. Parental love, even.”

“It’s more of a… simple, decent thing to do for the other person.” Ren said sadly. “Madarame never cooked for you, right?”

Yusuke sighed, chewing slowly.

“Only when I was a small child. I learned to prepare my own food when I was about six, I think. When the primary school started, anyway.” 

“Yeah… mum rarely cooked, too. I usually ate whatever was leftover at my cousin’s house.”

Yusuke looked at him; Ren’s pose was languid, relaxed even, and his expression impassive. As if he didn’t just admit that there was something wrong in his family home, too. Yusuke did not want to push for the whole story; he wasn’t sure if he even had the strength to handle it, listen properly and offer support in return. He may have felt a bit better now that he stopped moving, but the prospect of properly laying down was more and more of a temptation. He sighed and finished the last of his rice; only now has he realized how hungry he had been - with a sting of shame at being so needy and uncultured, because the small bentō box has been practically licked clean.

Ren smiled at the sight though, almost with affection, and took the container from his hands to put away. 

“Now Yusuke, just lie down. Honestly. You need to catch some sleep.” He said, patting the blanket. 

“No… I shouldn’t sleep. It’s not wise.”

“Look, no one is going to find us here. I would know, I have this spot checked out, it’s secluded. Nobody suspects we could have chosen to hide in the park, so you’re safe. Inokashira is packed with tourists. There are no patrols, and even if someone comes close, it’s going to be a family with children or foreigners who don’t speak Japanese. So you just lie down, get a couple of hours of sleep, and I’m going to be here all the time, watching over you. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Yusuke looked at him disbelievingly, not moving a muscle. 

“And… What are you going to do, during this ‘couple of hours’?”

“Read, listen to the free concert, enjoy the weather, talk with Morgana.” Ren said, taking a thick book out of his bag. “Don’t worry about me, I was always comfortable in my own company.” 

“And he’s not in his own company!” Morgana squeaked. “I’m gonna be here, too, guarding you both. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“See?” Ren smiled, taking his jacket off. “Seriously, take off your shoes and lie down.”

Yusuke seemed uncertain, but complied; he kicked his loafers off and carefully lowered himself down to lie on his left side. This seemed like the most reasonable position; he curled a little into himself, bringing his knees slightly to his chest. Ren nodded in approval and draped his black blazer over him to act like a cover.

Yusuke froze. The gesture was far too familiar. There was a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles with the thumb gently; and the scent, the faint scent of dust, coffee, cheap grey soap and something else, something that could only be Ren, was weirdly recognizable too. Was it possible…? Could this be true?

Yusuke’s eyes were wide. They stared at each other, unmoving, silent, long enough for it to become uncomfortable; Ren’s hand stilled on the lithe shoulder as he froze too, suspecting that he has crossed a line. Morgana sat on the blanket, stunned, glancing from one to the other, not understanding at all what this was about.

“Have we… is it possible that we have met... before?” Yusuke asked in a whisper.

“I don’t think so,” Ren answered a bit too quickly. “I would remember you.”

Yusuke kept staring for a while, but relented, feeling stupid; a weird hotness crept up his cheeks. He was probably just imagining things, his needy, haywired brain playing tricks on him. Of course it was not _him_. _He_ didn’t care. _He_ never came. Ren is just feeling sorry for him. Ren is helping, but it’s nothing else than pity. Pity that Yusuke accepts and disguises as something else, because it’s easier to accept it that way and stomach his own indignity.

“Is something the matter?” Ren asked, his hand squeezing the shoulder down gently.

“I… no, I’m… I’m sorry,” Yusuke stammered. “It’s nothing, I just recalled something and it confused me. Don’t bother yourself with it, please.”

“But of course I’ll bother. Talk to me.”

“No, it’s nothing… it’s stupid. I’m stupid.” Yusuke shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands; he had such long fingers, Ren couldn’t believe it. 

Delicately prying the fingers away from his face, Ren stretched out on the blanket next to Yusuke and glued a profound stare to his face. Morgana tactfully retreated, leaving them be; Yusuke couldn’t meet Ren’s eyes for a longer while, but he finally gathered enough guts and opened his eyes. 

“Why are you even helping me?” He asked seriously.

Ren was taken aback for a second.

“Oh come on. Any other decent person would do the same, were they in my shoes.”

“That’s not true.” Yusuke shook his head. “And what you did... everything you did, it far exceeds the limitations of our brief acquaintance. You don’t owe me anything, and yet… you’re here, s-saving me.”

Ren sighed sadly. 

“Look. You are part of our team now. You’re one of us. We take care of each other, we have each other’s back. You will learn, and you will do the same for us in turn, once you stand on your own two feet.” Ren explained calmly. “It’s natural among friends to take care of each other. We are friends - me, Ryuji and Ann, we’ve been through hell of a lot together. And we want to be your friends. We chose to do it and include you in our friendship.”

Yusuke kept looking, paying attention to Ren’s every word.

“It’s not only my idea to ‘save you’, you know; you should have heard Ryuji when we first entered Madarame’s palace and we learned about what is he doing to you.” Ren continued. “When Ryuji heard his Shadow say that he’s going to work you until you die, he wanted to throw himself at him with bare hands, I had to restrain him. And you’ve seen Ryuji, it’s not an easy task.” Ren laughed at the memory. “Ann… She has almost lost a friend because of Kamoshida, as you know. When she heard from Nakonahara that one of Madarame’s students has killed himself, and that everything points to the possibility that you will be next, she was beside herself. She kept urging us to hurry, she was so determined to talk to you, she would really do the nude if she had to, you know?” 

Yusuke burst with a short, humorless laugh, and Ren noticed that his eyes were teary. The classical music reaching them from the shell theater below the hill wasn’t exactly helping; the sad wailing of the violins made Ren a bit softish, too. Maybe it was because of the music, but a quiet resolve burned brighter in his heart and he turned around suddenly, showing Yusuke his back. He rolled up his turtleneck sweater to reveal a row of small, circular scars along his spine. They looked like shiny, pale spots; some still had a darkish undertone, as if something grey was embedded in the wound and never properly removed.

“You see this?” Ren asked quietly, pointing the scars with a finger. “This is the other reason I’m helping you.”

“Are these… cigarette burns…?” Yusuke choked out.

Ren pulled the hem of his sweater down and turned around to face the painter again.

“Yes. Among other things. Gifts from my father. What I mean is… I can imagine how you feel, because I… I’ve been through something similar, and… I don’t want to leave you alone.”

A tear slipped from Yusuke’s healthy eye and rolled down his cheek, leaving a glistening trail.

“I’m so sorry for doubting you,” he whispered. “It’s just… I’m not good with this at all. I have no experience, I have never had close friends I could talk to, I miss the nuances and sometimes… don’t know how to react. Besides, you must have surely noticed my eccentricity and wondered at its source. Madarame said…” The voice got stuck in Yusuke’s throat, and he had to swallow a couple of times to regain control of his vocal cords. “Madarame said I am not... normal, that I’m on the spectrum and because of that I read you all wrong… that you cannot in any probability want to be friends w-with someone like me.” 

“That’s a bunch of shit,” Ren said plainly, anger seeping to his words. “That’s a very typical tactic, to alienate you from outside sources of knowledge or validation. To have control over what you hear, what you know, what you think about yourself and about him. To make it impossible to reflect yourself in the eyes of another. Because this other person might tell you that you’re worthy, that you deserve respect, or… love. Because that other person might tell you that you’re beautiful.” Ren reached out a hand and gently brushed the bangs out of Yusuke’s eyes.

Yusuke thought for a while. 

“It was a… means of control, then.” He said finally.

“Precisely.” Ren nodded, a bit disappointed that the true meaning of his confession was all but lost to the artist. But maybe it was not the time, it was far too soon; Ren mentally smacked himself and willed away the nagging, indecent thoughts that were billowing in the dark recesses of his mind.

Yusuke took a couple of deep breaths. He seemed to calm himself a little; he gave out a small smile, sniffed quietly and bravely met Ren’s gaze.

“Thank you for showing me.” He whispered.

“No problem.” Ren smirked, reaching for the book he had taken out from his bag earlier. “Now, I really think you should get some sleep. You’re past exhausted.”

Yusuke nodded, knowing very well that Ren is right. He curled a bit tighter, hiding his nose in the folds of the Shujin blazer the other boy has draped over him, breathing in the scent of May, blooming lilacs, wet grass and _Ren_. Amamiya flopped on his belly, propping himself on his elbows, and opened the book. 

He reached languidly for one of the donuts; Morgana squealed with joy seeing him do it and quickly ran closer, as it meant that whatever private conversation they were holding was probably over. He got a donut for himself and hopped over Ren’s back to snuggle close to Yusuke’s belly. Ren outright snorted at that; the cat hissed at him with obvious disdain and made two circles in one spot, curling into a ball. Yusuke smiled into the jacket; it was pleasant to feel the warm, soft animal snuggle to him. 

There was birdsong in the air. Violins, and a masterfully played piano. The quiet sound of turning of the pages. And soon - Amamiya couldn’t believe it - a steady, quiet purring.

Yusuke opened one eye and glanced at Ren. 

He was so handsome. Unruly black hair fell into his eyes as he was engrossed in his reading. The sun hit every curl in just the right spot, making lovely highlights, revealing the rare, navy undertone in the hair pigmentation. Definitely a painting material... Maybe from a profile…? But how to upkeep this golden rays of sun, the shading of the piece would prove a challenge… and ah, these cheekbones. So beautiful...

“Sleep, goddammit.” 

Yusuke chuckled. He obediently nestled tighter under Ren’s watchful gaze. Blissful, safe sleep, beckoned by the calm violin tune and benign, merciful sunlight, came to engulf him almost immediately.


	3. Epilogue - 'The Rain'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be just a short, two- or three- scenes of the epilogue, wrapping thigs up, but... As I sat down to write it, it spilled out of me and I allowed the story to grow as it wanted. A really nice feeling ;) Apparently I am a gardener when it comes to writing. 
> 
> Anyway. It's longish, but I hope you don't mind. And if you have a spare minute, listen to "The Rain". It's worth it.
> 
> Thank you for staying with me on this story. It was personal.

**~*~**

The garish gold walls of the Metaverse museum were glistening in the light of the jupiters, and Yusuke seriously thought that he has probably never seen a building that ugly before. Everything about it was excessive and loud; opulent to the point of being simply distasteful. He sighed, shaking his head at this atrocity.

“You think you’re ready to go in?” 

Joker’s voice. His eyes, looking at him with a curious little glint, the smirk painted across his face almost challenging. But the voice was kind. 

“Yes. Let us put an end to this.” Yusuke answered, bowing his head elegantly. “I almost… physically cannot wait until this ludicrous museum is no more.”

“We’ll be right by your side.” Ann chimed in, putting a warm hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. “Let’s steal this treasure and free you.”

“Lady Ann is right!” Mona crossed his hand-like paws on his chest, swinging the tail right and left. “If everybody pulls their weight today, the route to the Treasure will be secured. That should be our main objective for the current infiltration. Proceeding methodically will be most fruitful! So everybody focus!”

“Mona, stop being bossy,” Ryuji moaned on the left. “You better focus on pulling your own weight, cat.”

Above the meowing and groaning that ensued, Joker’s eyes were gleaming behind his mask. He was giving Yusuke a lingering, smoldering stare. His stance was just as confident as ever, his hand braced on his hip casually, but there was a certain softness on his handsome face. Warmth in his eyes, indicated by a barely perceptible raise of his eyebrows, a minute smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he beheld his newest companion. Yusuke blinked; he was probably imagining stuff, but in the same time he hasn’t seen Joker ever give such a prolonged look of undivided attention to Skull or Panther. 

The look Yusuke first noticed in Inokashira park.

**~*~**

Ren was still deeply engrossed in his book, when the first hesitant droplets of warm summer rain started to fall from the sky. It was a rush of wind that startled him, bringing in more of the lilac and pine scent of the greenery surrounding them, a small splatter of wetness on the skin of his wrist, and as he craned his head up he beheld a grayish, softened light above them as the clouds blanket the sky densely. Ren glanced towards Yusuke; he was still fast asleep, without so much as a twitch, without a single sound - out like a light. 

At first Ren thought that maybe it will blow over, but more and more raindrops started to fall and they got bigger, too, so he packed the book into his bag in a rush and gently shook Yusuke awake. They would get soaked if they stayed here. 

Yusuke’s eyes opened slowly, groggily, his limbs stirred just barely, and for a good minute he was completely uncooperative, just laying there on the blanket, limp and unresisting. Ren huffed out a fond smile, but had to get him up somehow; the rain only gained on intensity.

“Yusuke. Wake up. Come on,” Ren said, putting his hands under his armpits and hoisting him up. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but we need to get out of the rain. Come on. I’ll help you stand.” He cajoled quietly, maneuvering his friend into a standing position. 

Yusuke barely registered what’s happening, but as Ren pulled him towards the big chestnut tree on the edge of the small clearing, he started to move his legs obediently. Catching sleepy, shallow breaths and trying to understand why is he being hauled up and away from his comfortable spot of slumber, he leaned on the tree trunk, wrapping his arms around himself. 

Cold air hit his slender frame and he shivered. Ren’s jacket fell on the wet grass, and Yusuke vaguely registered Ren’s running form across the clearing, gathering their things in a hurry; when stuff was collected, Ren picked his jacket up too before sprinting to hide from the rain under the leafy canopy of the big tree.

“There,” Yusuke more felt than really heard Ren coming back, dumping the bags on the ground under the tree. Ren flicked the water from his jacket with a quick, sharp movement, sending a small spritz of droplets into the air, and put it on hurriedly. Then he took one of the blankets and reached with his hands to wrap it around the shivering body of the artist. 

“It suddenly got colder. You okay?” He asked, brushing the bangs out of Yusuke’s face.

Yusuke stifled a yawn, moved to rub at his eyes languidly, still not entirely coherent.

“How… how long was I…?” he muttered, trying to focus his gaze at Ren, who steadied him where he swayed next to the tree trunk. 

“I kinda lost track of time,” Ren laughed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. What’s important is that you rested a bit.”

In reality Yusuke slept like a log for three hours straight, totally oblivious to sunlight, nature sounds and bustling noises of tourists or any movement around him, and Ren didn’t have it in his heart to wake him at all. The concert has ended a while ago, and another band was setting up their instruments; even if most of the tourists moved to the cozy cafes and little wooden shelters or altanas hidden around the park, there still was enough audience for the musicians to play, and Ren suspected it has some sort of connection to the Ghibli museum, which was located on the premises of Inokashira park. The repertoire seemed centered around movie soundtracks, too. Live music must have been good for business.

Well, good, Ren smirked as a slow and quite lovely melody reached their ears through the hum of the rain. 

Yusuke frowned a bit, casting a look around and trying to gather himself together. He fumbled with the dressings on his wrists, frowning as if in pain or confusion; he was still shivering a bit. Ren wrapped the blanket more tightly around his body, grabbing the folds at the front and pulling him towards himself by the plush fabric, intending to warm him up.

“Would you like some coffee, maybe?” Ren asked, gently rubbing his hands up and down his arms. 

“Ah… yes, that would be nice…” Yusuke muttered, nodding in Ren’s general direction, still palpating his wrists. “I’m sorry, I don’t seem to… I’m a bit unfocused,” he admitted.

“Is everything okay here?” Ren asked, taking one of the artist’s hands in his and checking the bandage. “How are you feeling?”

“Um, yes… I’m okay, it’s nothing,” Yusuke muttered, his eyes strangely worried, the frown still present. Ren was just about to protest and call bullshit, but suddenly Yusuke’s face contorted in a powerful yawn and he had barely managed to cover his mouth with the other hand. Ren snorted with laughter at the feeble attempts to apologize that spilled from Yusuke’s mouth straight after.

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it. I would have let you sleep longer, if not for the rain.” 

Yusuke huffed a small smile and made a face as if he understood something, his eyebrows sloping gently down and getting together in an expression of remembrance.

“Ah, yes. ‘The Rain’. ” He smiled languidly, and for a second Ren didn’t know what he is referring to, so he batted his eyelashes at Yusuke in confusion.

“The melody. Can you hear it?” Yusuke smiled. “It’s called ‘The Rain’ by Joe Hisaishi.”

“How fitting,” Ren grinning genuinely, looking at the downpour around them. He couldn’t help it; Yusuke was barely awake and he probably didn’t remember how he got here in the first place, but could pull off a snippet of artistic trivia out of his muddled mind and say it with a straight face, like it was the most vital piece of information he just absolutely needed to share with the world. It was quite endearing.

“It’s truly beautiful,” the artist continued, swaying a little. “All the little notes, all the subtle flicks of the piano keys in this monotone, yet increasing pattern… it really imitates rain. Can you hear it…?” Yusuke closed his eyes with obvious pleasure painting itself on his face, leaning against the rough bark and Ren. “Listen to it… it’s a masterpiece.”

Ren listened carefully.

Yes. He could hear it.

The music faded slowly into the sound of increasing rain. The downpour whipped the ground, mercifully omitting the place where they hid under the thick branches; the air was filled with sharp petrichor and the musky scent of wet lilacs. Yusuke sniffed quietly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes; he looked so lost, so small, and in the same time he was so trusting and pliable, leaning against Ren and allowing him to rub his arms as if it was nothing. Ren felt himself melting inside. 

“You like Ghibli soundtracks?” Ren whispered a question.

“Mhm,” Yusuke muttered. “I would play this kind of music as a background for painting landscapes or still life… I used to have a CD player in my room,” he said, looking into the distance. “But then one night I was painting and listening in the same time, and Madarame came home in a bad mood, and he took it away because it was a ‘noisy nuisance’. ”

Ren pulled Yusuke even closer, gripping the folds of the blanket till his knuckles turned white. 

“I’m gonna buy you a CD player.” He said with an unreadable face, looking Yusuke in the eye. “And as many Ghibli soundtracks as you can carry.”

Yusuke burst out with a short, but honest laughter. 

“Oh but I assure you, it’s okay,” he said with a smile. “I couldn’t possibly accept such an expensive gift. And I have my phone, I can listen to music on that.”

“It’s not the same. The quality of sound is just different. You deserve a real sound system, so that you could get inspired, so that you would work easier and daydream to your heart’s content.” 

“Huh. What could I possibly daydream about…?” Yusuke smirked, but trailed off sadly and started staring into the horizon again. Ren wouldn’t have it.

He turned Yusuke’s chin towards himself with two fingers and gave him his most smoldering gaze. He knew he shouldn’t hit on Yusuke, but... God, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Let’s see. Maybe… other worlds,” he started. “Whole realms you could rule over, being the sole creator and emperor of the painted reality in front of you, where nothing can happen without your permission, not even a single drop of paint can fall and create a blade of grass without your sayso. You could daydream of other places… safe, and warm, or hostile and frozen three times over, with glass forests and icy pools of crystalline water. Other times. Happy times. Times past. Or... future.”

Yusuke looked at him with a stunned, speechless expression, drinking his words as if it was golden mead. He exhaled slowly, never lowering his gaze, and taking in Ren’s face, until there was no more air left in his lungs and he felt almost lightheaded; Ren was looking at him, looking at him so… and their faces were so close, that if he leaned in but a tad more, their noses would touch.

“You… truly, never cease to amaze me.” Yusuke breathed. 

And then suddenly Ren flashed him a friendly, completely non-intense smile and effortlessly changed the topic. 

“You want the last of the mochi?” he asked, in a suddenly upbeat tone, reaching down for the last two sweets on a paper tray. Yusuke frowned.

“Erm… sorry, but I absolutely hate mochi,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Something about the texture is… not sitting right with me.”

“I should make a mental note,” Ren said, popping a sweet into his mouth. “I’ll remember to get you something else next time. Sadly, Morgana ate all of the donuts, that greedy feline.” 

They shared a moment of companionable silence, propped against the big chestnut tree. The rough bark texture was a stark contrast to previous soft grass-and-blanket setup, and Yusuke shifted a bit to find a more comfortable position, where the gnarls of the bark would not dig into his back. Ren was observing the rain flooding the clearing with calm contentment, rubbing up and down Yusuke’s arm from time to time; he seemed quite at ease, as if he was in his element simply _caring for_ the other person. Yusuke smiled at this observation, recalling everything Ren did today, just like that; conjuring food, band-aids and blankets out of thin air, transporting him to a safe space of healing and beauty.

A needle of pain shot through the whole Yusuke’s hand, leaving a lingering, unpleasant tingle in his fingertip when he accidentally angled his wrist too much. He reached to fumble with the dressing again, what caught Ren’s attention. 

“What’s wrong? You seem bothered, is the bandage too tight?” Ren asked, taking Yusuke’s right hand out of the folds of the blanket.

“I, um... no, I just moved the hand in a wrong way. But now that I focus on it… I can’t feel all of my fingers properly.”

Yusuke immediately felt nimble fingers running through the digits of his right hand, inspecting the damage and bending them at the joints.

“Can you move all of them?” Ren asked, holding the wrist up gently. Yusuke swallowed, forcing his fingers to move, which they all did, but in a shaky, strained, jumpy way; the hand was trembling.

“You think it’s the swelling? It might yet subside, I mean… It has barely been 12 hours…” Yusuke whispered.

“It might be,” Ren said seriously. “I mean, it sure is part of the issue. But zip ties, they are just… “ He trailed off, feeling anger bubble in him again. “You see, they are thin, stiff and unyielding, and they cut off circulation pretty severely. Also…” Ren hesitated, catching Yusuke’s eye. “...you were struggling. Pulling at them. They probably clamped even tighter.”

Yusuke swallowed loudly.

“So… are we talking possible tendon, nerve damage?” He asked, trying not to panic at the speculation.

Ren clasped both hands on top of Yusuke’s wrist. 

“Stop right there. There is no need to get anxious or think about it at all, for that matter. All you need to do is endure a couple of hours more, tops. I know what we should do next.”

“...And what is that?” Yusuke asked, biting on his lip.

“There is a place where we can summon our Personas and make use of the healing spells without having to enter the Palace,” Ren explained. “There is no reason why the spells couldn’t work on real-life injuries; after all, their effects carry into the real world pretty well, even after we have been knocked out a dozen of times. I guess this is at least worth a try. But we cannot do it alone, we need more manpower.” 

“Why?” Yusuke asked. 

“The place I mean, Mementos - you haven’t seen it yet - can get crowded with shadows, especially on a rainy day. We are not entirely comfortable navigating it yet, and that’s why I need two more people on defense while Mona takes his time to heal you. After that, we scram. So... I took the liberty to contact Ann and Ryuji… they will help. We meet after school in Shibuya subway.” 

Ren looked up at Yusuke hopefully, a little anxious that he might oppose the idea; indeed, he wasn’t thrilled about showing his bruised face to the other teammates and face further humiliation, but then, they would know anyway, since the black eye was bound to stay for weeks. Yusuke sighed, feeling resigned. He knew he should just listen to Ren. Besides, having his injuries disappear all at once under the power of healing magic was… tempting to say the least. Now that Yusuke was more awake, he realized the effect of painkillers wore off a fair bit, and he was starting to feel dull pain in his joints and on his back again; he looked at his bandaged hands. 

He was completely unprepared to accept the reality where he cannot use his hands to paint due to the damage that his own teacher has dealt to him.

“I trust you.” Yusuke said with a quiet determination and nodded his approval. Ren hummed, pleased.

“Good. Then we’ll just wait for the rain to clear and we can slowly get going, I think,” he said, looking up at the sky and the grayish clouds veiling it. “The train trip will take a while, and we can go about that coffee, too... Something warm would do you good.” 

After just a few more minutes the rain started to thin out, so Ren made sure to collect all rubbish and went about packing. He took one folded blanket and threw it over his arm, then picked up their school bags and put both straps on his left shoulder. They weren’t very heavy, so he decided to carry both. Yusuke slowly pulled the blanket off of his stiff shoulders and folded it neatly with some level of difficulty.

“Where is Morgana?” he asked, looking around suddenly.

“He’ll be waiting for us at the Inokashira station,” Ren said. “He likes to wander around sometimes. Don’t worry about him.” 

Ren took the blanket from Yusuke, instructed him to put the hood over his head again and led the way down the slope to the cozy, quaint cafe from earlier. Yusuke followed, and just as Ren predicted, a small content sigh issued as he beheld the white fence and all the shabby chic of the cafe’s exterior.

“Cozy, eh?” Ren smirked. 

“Lovely,” Yusuke mumbled. He forced his shaking hands to compliance and arranged his fingers to frame the small wooden house and the garden patches surrounding it. 

As they entered the cafe, Ren flashed another tantalizing smile at the girl behind the counter, the same one who had teased him before about the alleged date. Yusuke took both blankets from Ren’s arms. 

“We wanted to thank you for allowing us to use the blankets,” he uttered with a court bow to the girl. “And for such a prolonged time, too. You have my sincerest thanks.”

She appeared a bit stunned at such an elaborate, polite thank-you, and as Yusuke offered to put the blankets back in place over the chairs in the garden outside, she nodded with a grateful smile as she watched him walk away. Still, as Ren turned to her to order two black coffees, he could tell that the black eye did not escape her attention, hidden under Yusuke’s bangs as it was. Her look was concerned. 

Ren gave her a small, reassuring smile. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got him.” He said simply.

As Yusuke returned, Ren handed him his cup of coffee, and he took it in both hands, marvelling at the warmth of it through the paper insulation band around it. They both turned to leave, but the girl called them back suddenly.

“Wait a minute,” she smiled, passing a small paper takeaway box their way. “We have a promotion today. Since you have bought two coffees, you get the muffins as an extra. There you go.”

“Why, thank you so much,” Yusuke practically _beamed_. “Such a great, unexpected treat! Thank you!”

“Have a good day,” the girl smiled at Yusuke. “Take care of yourself.”

“May you have a good day too,” Yusuke bowed again and trotted behind Ren to the exit. Ren shook his head good-heartedly, knowing full well that Yusuke didn’t even realize the ‘promotion’ was a white lie and he just got two muffins for free, out of sympathy. Looking at the way Yusuke’s eyes lit as he beheld the cupcakes, Ren smirked. So he was a blueberry muffin guy, huh…? 

Ren should remember that.

**~*~**

The Palace walls flashed purple and gold, as the building seemed to shift and growl at the very presence of the Thieves, treading through its corridors while the Ruler was yet unaware of their infiltration. Madarame must have been getting subconsciously agitated; the closer they were to the Treasure, the more the cognition inside seemed to warp, safe rooms were scarcer and shadows more viscous, their forms and manifestations morphing into something straight out of a deranged fairy tale.

As they turned a corner and walked straight into two powerful shadows, Ryuji lunged forward with a yell, producing a blinding flash of lightning and effectively zapping one of them. Captain Kidd towered above him amidst the yellow light, and the shadow disappeared into nothingness with a ghastly screech. Ryuji scoffed, self-assured and confident, then spun around and extended a hand to Yusuke, who had landed on his butt, incapacitated by the shadow’s attack earlier. 

Yusuke sighed, ashamed of himself, and took the extended hand. Ryuji hoisted him up and shielded from the afterwave of a powerful curse attack that Joker delivered a few meters in front of them. Ryuji’s body formed a stable barrier, a wall between the newbie Fox and the battle, and Yusuke found himself involuntarily turning away from the magical wind whooshing past them, hiding in the space provided. 

“I’m only slowing you down,” Yusuke muttered more to himself than to Ryuji, but he must have been heard, because there was an immediate elbow to his ribs and a laughing, encouraging response.

“Quit talkin’ nonsense, bro,” Ryuji showed all of his teeth in a smile. “You’re doing better than I did at the beginning. Take the stick out of your ass and go get them.” 

Mona dropped a healing item and Yusuke felt a wave of relief overcome him and the last of his pain dissipate. A feeling not unlike his first time visiting Mementos. Yusuke straightened next to Ryuji and nodded at him with renewed determination; Skull just patted his shoulder, shortly, roughly, like a man, and sent him on his way.

Ryuji was so strong. He was loyal. He accepted him as part of the team, he would give his absolute best to fight alongside and protect Yusuke in the process. 

“Baton pass!” Ann called and in a second she was running towards Yusuke with her hand raised high. Yusuke accepted and as the clap of their hands reverberated through him, he summoned Goemon with a pleasurable hum of energy and attacked, sending icy missiles into the shadow in front of him. His attack landed perfectly, just in the weak spot.

Yusuke could hear Ann cry out in astonishment, cheering him on. Ann... Panther.

Just a simple clap of hands with a baton pass would do wonders to Yusuke’s day and sense of self. He wondered briefly how quickly he came to anticipate those moments of switching turns, where one of his friends would purposefully catch his hand and make space for him to shine; as touch-starved and attention-deprived as he was through his whole life up to this point, it was something he simply longed for.

Especially after how Ann and Ryuji gave him a first proper hug of his life.

**~*~**

“Holy shit,” Ryuji winced, looking at the bruises on Yusuke’s face. “Ugh. Mishima 2.0, don’t you think?”

“Worse than that,” Ren said, a calming hand located safely on Yusuke’s shoulder, grounding him in his spot on the subway floor, tethering him to reality. “We shouldn’t waste time. Let’s go to Mementos.”

“You want us on support?” Ryuji asked, his face and tone turning into serious as they moved away for a second to discuss tactics. “We should probably go down just a bit further away from the entrance, and then we flank him, and Mona heals as he’s the best at it. Right?”

“Right,” Ren confirmed, and the cat squeaked on his shoulder happily. “This can be tricky, though. In theory. You know, summoning a Persona itself can take a toll. Someone should stay with Yusuke and make sure he doesn’t collapse. Ann, did you hear me? It’s your job. Me and Ryuji will stand guard. Got it?”

Ann only nodded, as she was absolutely unable to speak. The moment she had seen Yusuke, both her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a shocked gasp, and she started crying on the spot. Now she was hugging the poor artist with all her might, pulling him to lean down on her and tiptoeing to reach with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, as he was much taller. 

Yusuke was quite shocked at first; this abrupt, demanding, full-body hug was a very sudden invasion to his guarded personal space and so different from how Ren gently beckoned him in to just accept the offered support. In her exasperation Ann was oblivious to subtleties, and she had simply pulled Yusuke in to smother him with a compassionate embrace. 

After just a moment of stiffness he relaxed, though; he had never felt something like this, maybe only when he was so very small, and any memory of hugs was long gone from his mind; now, that Ann offered her warmth and soft, friendly tears so freely, he felt a powerful emotion well up inside him and he buried his face in her shoulder, palms tightening on the back of her loose, red bomber jacket. 

“I’m going to keep you safe,” Ann sobbed into Yusuke’s ear. “I swear, we’ll make it right. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re gonna be alright, I promise.”

A strained sob shook Yusuke’s shoulders. Ryuji stepped in, putting a hand on Yusuke’s back to pat him briefly and embracing Ann as well.

“Alright, buddy. Let’s do something about this and kick the old man’s ass. Dipshit thinks he can do as he pleases, but fuck him. Come on, Ann, don’t go to pieces! Geez, you’re always like this, crying like a small girl!”

“I AM a girl, you moron!”

“Get a grip! He doesn’t need this, you know,” Ryuji admonished and she kicked him in the shin, breaking the hug. “Auch! What was that for?!” 

“For being an idiot! Of course he needs this!”

“What he needs is a decent beef bowl, and once we’re done in Mementos, we’re going to get exactly that,” Ryuji said. “Ain’t that right, leader? My treat!”

Ren huffed out a small smile; he had not joined with the group hug, staying vigilant and observing their whereabouts, making sure they are not causing a commotion and that no one is paying undue attention to them.

“I thought you’re broke, Ryuji,” he said, gesturing at them to get going. They turned towards the stairs leading to Shibuya square.

“I put aside some cash for Mortal Kombat. Wanted to practice some and beat Mishima finally, but… that can wait. So, beef bowl? Beef bowl? Beef bowl?” He asked, pointing a finger to each of them in turn, walking backwards and stumbling, obviously.

Yusuke smiled; Ann still held his hand, and Ren overwinged his left side. He had never, ever anticipated this, the sincere company of his new friends, lightweight banter and genuine desire to help. Nor had he, in fact, expected things to look quite so bright, as he dashed out of Madarame’s shack in complete panic and utter exhaustion this morning. In this moment, as he felt a comforting touch of Ann’s small hand and Ren’s scent still hovering around him, the memory of his torment was becoming very distant. Almost unreal.

He allowed them to lead on. 

**~*~**

Just like Ren predicted, the moment Yusuke had felt the pull of the Metaverse and the reality had started to warp and blur around them in black and red blotches, he found himself going faint and feeble, his head started to spin like crazy and he could very distinctively taste stale copper in his mouth. He did manage to change his attire into the fighting gear, and he could clearly feel the thrum of icy power surging through his veins; an incessant whisper of Goemon, struggling to be let out. But facts were he was barely standing and he would flop face forward on the unfamiliar, clouded surface of the dreamscape platform if it wasn’t for Ann to hold him up. 

“Hold on, Yusuke,” she whispered. “We need to go one level down, away from the platform. Will you manage?”

“Y-yes,” he choked out. “What… what the hell is this place?”

“It’s the palace of the common public,” Mona started to explain. “Collective unconscious of the masses formed it and gave it life. We can come here to find shadows of people, who have a warped desire or any aberrations in their cognition of reality, and we can steal their hearts to make them change.” 

“Saturnine,” Yusuke muttered, glancing around the dilapidated, wind-swept subway full of eerie red light, taken straight from a horror movie. 

“He said one word, only one word, and I still have no clue what he meant,” Ryuji shook his head. Ren arched an eyebrow wordlessly and led the way.

Truth be told, Yusuke did not remember much from the first visit to Mementos, as he was too overwhelmed with everything that happened and everything he had to take in. The morbid darkness creeping up the tiled walls in shape of veins or creeper stems of ghastly plants; strange howling that had nothing to do with normal wind; weird, never ending, forward-going trains that swallowed depressed, hunched silhouettes and took off without waiting. He kept staring at it all, his pupils blown wide, realizing that this is indeed the ugliness of the human heart. A visualization of what must have been going on in Madarame’s heart. 

As they descended the stairs, a cool and sparkly shower of a healing spell and the bright greenish light befell him, blocking his vision of Ann holding him up by the elbow. For a second the normal vision returned and then was shrouded again, and again, and again. Yusuke understood that it required several spells, both from Ann and Mona to bring him back up to a state where he did not feel any pain, and where the bruises on his face have disappeared. 

Once he could stand on his own, finally free from the burden, he took off his blue glove hurriedly to inspect his painting hand and clenched it forcefully into a fist. It worked. There was no pain. No trembling. He gave out a short laugh and wiggled his fingers in the air, relishing the feeling that he took for granted every day of his life.

“Everything alright back there?” Joker called, eyes still trained in the gaping darkness of the corridor in front of them. “Ann, how is he?”

“I’m fine,” Yusuke called, and Ann gave a sigh of relief. “I think… everything is fine, I’m… I’m all better.”

“He seems okay now,” Mona said, jumping on one foot. “Which is good because I can feel that…”

“Yeah, they’re coming,” Ryuji muttered. “Okay! Fox, get your ass in here and show us what you’ve got!” 

Skull attacked first, before Yusuke even understood what came their way; a colorful form of Captain Kidd materialized above him and attacked the enemy with magic, as they had no weapons on them. Joker followed suit and focused on debuffing the enemy, a powerful slap of Arsène’s wings sending raven feathers everywhere. Then they both moved aside, Ryuji sprinting to the left, Ren opting for a graceful salto, opening up the path for Yusuke to strike. Goemon practically wrenched himself out with unabashed fury and unloaded a sea of icy shards on the shadow before Yusuke even managed to say the words. 

**~*~**

“Okay, so… we have an old western, which I am always partial to, the first part of ‘Die Hard’, second season of Daredevil and ‘The hunt for the Red October’. You choose,” Ren smiled, browsing through a small bunch of DVD’s he had rented for himself a couple of days ago in Shibuya.

“I am sorry to disappoint, but I will most probably make a wrong choice for tonight,” Yusuke said quietly, sitting cross-legged on the futon in the middle of Ren’s attic. “I haven’t heard of any of them and I don’t know what these movies are about, so… this would be an uninformed guess, nothing more.”

Ren gave him a long stare.

“You mean to tell me you have never seen ‘Die Hard’?” He asked incredulously.

Yusuke shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, looking down. With this bleak expression and wearing borrowed nightclothes, he presented a bit of a pitiful sight. Ren felt a pang of guilt.

“No, don’t.” Ren gritted his teeth, sitting next to Yusuke and showing him the DVD boxes and descriptions on the back. “That old, withered prune. I am going to enjoy beating the shit out of his Shadow.”

Yusuke took one of the plastic cases in his hands absentmindedly to take a look at the synopsis. After they have left Mementos, a little out of breath and insanely giddy to have put up a good fight to a bunch of shadows even without their weapons, the small group of friends decided to head to Leblanc. 

They decided to hang out for a while, talking cheerfully over a cup of coffee, enjoying Sōjirō’s curry and compulsively making sure every couple of minutes that Yusuke is, indeed, alright; but he was fine, all of the healing spells worked and he returned from Mementos in one piece, his skin unmarred and hands fully operational. Just exhausted, both mentally and physically.

To be fair, he did try to protest weakly when Ann pleaded his case to Boss and asked him to allow Yusuke to stay the night. His hand clenched on the brown envelope with the money and the business card of the hotel he had kept in the pocket of his hoodie. Fate wouldn’t have it, though; as soon as Yusuke opened his mouth to say something, he was shrugged off by Sōjirō, who blankly agreed to the whole deal, and he got manhandled upstairs to make himself at home in the attic. Ren and Ryuji brought a spare futon from Sōjirō’s nearby house, Ann helped to clad the makeshift bed in fresh sheets and Ren pulled a fresh change of clothes from his shelf. Granted, they would be a tad ill-fitting, but Yusuke was grateful. 

Ann excused herself a little while later, and after seeing her to the station the boys hit the public baths. Warmed up, relaxed, full of delicious curry and basking in the warm glow of the presence of his friends, Yusuke allowed himself to believe for a moment that this was all real - and it will not end once he wakes up tomorrow. 

And now, after Ryuji had said his goodbyes, Ren suggested they take it easy and watch a movie until they feel too sleepy to stay up anymore. 

Yusuke ran his finger up the spine of the plastic DVD cover with a photo of the red-clad man in a horned helmet, reading the title in his mind. He had no idea which movie should he pick and if Ren had any preference at all. Madarame did not condone wasting time for movies, especially contemporary franchises. If Yusuke had a bit more experience, he would at least know what to expect nowadays from a ‘powerhouse action thriller sporting brilliant martial-art style fight sequences’. But alas, he had no idea.

“Are you okay?” 

Yusuke lifted his eyes at Ren. He looked so lovingly ordinary in a simple black T-shirt and loose sweatpants, the mop of his unruly, black hair even more disheveled than usual, glasses discarded. He was looking at Yusuke with a small smile.

“I cannot shake the feeling that I’m imposing.” The artist said, suddenly feeling his cheeks go weird; he felt hot all of a sudden.

“Yusuke, I beg you. Stop thinking about it. You’re not imposing. And if you don’t want to watch anything, just say so.”

“No, I do! I do. I am rather looking forward to it. I haven’t really been able to watch a lot of movies in the past. There was no real time for it, and Sen-, um, Madarame did not approve... But that means I am at loss here. You choose, Ren, please.” 

“Did he not allow you or other students to unwind at all? There was no free time?” Ren asked, reaching for the boxes.

“Um… not necessarily, I mean… artistic endeavour was encouraged first and foremost, even in the spare time, but other students, when there still were any, were allowed to have free time. And there was a TV in the atelier, in the living room. There were a couple of movies on VHS and I’m sure they have rented some as well, sat down together to watch them... They could travel more freely around the city, so it wouldn’t pose a problem. They could leave the atelier in the evenings, too. They could go to the cinema, or meet their friends, or parents. I, on the other hand… well… there was an unwritten rule that I couldn’t. I guess I was too oblivious to even try. I told myself I am too busy. That the work for sensei is more important.”

Yusuke trained his gloomy stare in the floorboards.

“But wouldn’t seeing other works of art, be it a movie, an exhibition or a show, present you with some inspiration? Room to grow? To develop?” Ren asked. “You know. To be a better artist, if nothing else.”

Yusuke sighed, unable to meet his eye. 

“I… I don’t know what to tell you, Ren.” His shoulders sloped down sadly.

Amamiya patted his back, grabbed a DVD and stood up to turn the player on.

“Don’t beat yourself up. I know a thing or two myself about having to sneak out to see a certain movie, or bootlegging books so you can read it under your blanket with a flashlight.”

“You were doing that?” Yusuke smiled, imagining small Ren curled on his bed with a flashlight under his chin, reading something with bright, hungry eyes and a flush of excitement on his cheeks. “Books like what, what were the titles?”

“Oh, a lot of fantasy fiction, Lord of the Rings, Dune, Harry Potter,” Ren laughed. “A lot, and I mean a LOT of mangas.” 

“But… I don’t understand, you were forbidden to read books? By whom?”

“By my parents. And not books in general, just certain books. The ones which were not approved, or contained something potentially _harmful_ , you know.” Ren grabbed a remote and flopped down on the futon, splayed on his belly with legs swinging back and forth in the air. 

“Harmful like what?” 

Ren rolled his eyes. Yusuke really didn’t have a clue.

“Harmful like _magic_ , or supernatural stuff,” Ren explained. “It was a... religious thing. Whenever they caught me with a book or a comic that was ‘wrong’ somehow, I would be punished, because they believed my young mind would be influenced by inappropriate things and I would turn out bad. Guess they were right,” Ren scoffed with mirth, “given that I am a superpower-endowed vigilante with a criminal record running amok the streets of Tokyo.”

Yusuke bit his lip, trying to fight off a fit of laughter.

“I can hardly understand it, though.” He said, shaking his head. “With all his twisted vices… Madarame was never religious. Quite the opposite, actually. So he at least did not touch my sense of self, trying to bend it or limit it by dogmas or a set of rules befitting a congregation.”

Ren grimaced.

“He did. He just didn’t dress it up as faith.” 

Yusuke gave him a long glance. 

Ren’s expression was a bit confusing. His eyes shone brightly, but his face stilled for once into a careful mask of indifference. Yusuke had a feeling he can sense his anger underneath the words, but also hurt, and a fair bit of _disappointment_ ; as if he could clearly see through the ruse, the fakeness, the superimposed rules he was made to obey and was sorry for anyone who couldn’t see it for what it really was.

Yusuke recalled how majestic Arsène looked earlier today in Mementos. How the huge black wings would take up almost all of the space of the subway corridor, scattering anthracite feathers around, creating gusts of wind whenever the Persona moved to attack with deadly grace. Arsène moved and gesticulated a lot like Ren did. And in this exact moment, the squared shoulders and a dogged look on the boy’s face were bearing an uncanny resemblance to his Metaverse counterpart.

“If I may ask,” Yusuke started quietly, “how did you achieve such confidence? Such a strong sense of self? Even against an outside force that would try to mould you, bend you to their will, being backed with a power of authority, as they were… well. Your parents. How were you able to attain the sense of what is right…?”

Ren sighed and relaxed against Yusuke, letting his legs lay still on the futon. 

“It was easy, really. They were hurting me, they were hurting each other, they were hurting other people to various degrees. All I had to do is notice it, and once I noticed, I immediately knew in my gut that this can’t be right if it feels so miserable. That this shouldn’t really be that way. That I don’t want to be that way, too. And I was able to notice because I didn’t only read stories about magic and elves and shit; I didn’t limit myself. You see, the moment my parents got really pissed was when they had found Orwell in my room.” Ren glanced at Yusuke with a quirk of eyebrows and a glint of pure mischief in his eyes. “I still have the scar. See?” He said, reaching to brush his black locks away from the nape of his neck, where a thin, pale scar crept up from behind his ear and disappeared in his hairline. 

Yusuke was less amused.

“Ren… what happened…?” He asked, his eyes going wide.

“I hit a bedside table. Look, don’t think about it. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m alright. I really am. Truth be told…” Ren hesitated for a second, playing with the remote. “...I feel more at home here, in this dusty attic, with a grumpy old man serving me the same curry every day, than I have ever felt before.”

Yusuke made a move as if he wanted to grab Ren’s hand, but chickened out. Ren noticed it, of course, and with a nonchalant smirk laced their fingers together. Pretending that he doesn’t see the blush that suddenly exploded on Yusuke’s neck, he pressed play.

“So. Just enjoy the show. This is a cold war classic about a _shoviet shubmarine_. Starring Sean Connery. Good actor, funny accent. And here, help yourself.” Ren pushed the bowl of potato chips closer to Yusuke. 

The film started, and the dark room was flooded with white light as the wide scenery shot of a dark water and snowy mountains towering above it appeared on screen. It went on for a while, only to change to an intense, silent close-up of a furrowed brow of a man wearing a black fur hat with a golden emblem. A captain. The camera started to zoom out, showing more and more of the face of the man and the grayish sky behind him.

“Ren...?” 

“Mhm?”

“Thank you.”

Instead of a verbal answer, Ren squeezed his palm twice.

**~*~**

A bit over an hour later Yusuke has finally succumbed to exhaustion and gave up the pretense that he is still following the plot. His head lolled to the side and landed on Ren’s shoulder so abruptly that the movement startled him awake. Ren made to get up and turn everything off, but an insistent hand stopped him.

“You’re not sleepy, finish watching, I don’t mind,” Yusuke mumbled. “White noise is nice. Please.”

Ren hesitated, but seeing how Yusuke climbed under the covers and trustingly curled on his side next to him, he sighed and relented. He considered moving to his own bed, but then he wouldn’t be able to see properly on the small screen nor hear the movie very well; not to mention Morgana has returned from his evening walk not so long ago, his fur wet and smelly with rain, and he deposited himself to sleep exactly in the middle of Ren’s bed. Because of course he did. 

“Are you sure…? Can I stay here or…?”

“Stay,” Yusuke mumbled without opening his eyes. 

Few minutes later he was fast asleep, his breath even and quiet. Ren suspected that Yusuke wouldn’t dare to say it out loud, but he had probably found it easier to fall asleep with a source of light and an awake person in the room watching over him. The effects of his ordeal and all of the inner turmoil would carry on in his heart and mind, and would not be remotely as easy to erase as the wounds and scars on his body. 

That said, if not for the Metaverse and the happy coincidence of them having healing items and spells, the bodily trauma would be devastating, too. Ren flinched as he recalled the sight of Yusuke’s back this morning; he would hate it to see the artist suffer long weeks of recovery, endure the pain and humiliation of wearing the bruises, or face the fact that his painting hand might be permanently damaged. This was a close call. Too close tor Ren’s liking.

He was adamant to keep Yusuke here, in the attic, for as long as he would need, preferably until they finally stole Madarame’s treasure and he would undergo a change of heart. It could be tricky to convince Yusuke to stay that long. But to properly protect him… Ren would have to.

Never again. Ren never wanted to see pain on his face again. He never again wanted to sit by him, shocked and powerless, only able to comfort him, to help him _endure_ the agony inflicted by those who were supposed to protect him and care for him. It has happened twice by now. 

Two times that Ren knew of.

It was haunting, and infuriating, and in the same time it made Ren feel like he has never quite felt before. Blood rushed through his veins and he could feel a hum in his ears, as he beheld the sleeping artist. He was at peace, his features slack with sleep, relaxed in his reverie. His hair, freshly washed and a little unruly, framed his face in two gently sloping halves. He slept with his mouth opened just a sliver; an open palm of his delicate hand was laying defenselessly on the pillow just next to his head. 

Arsène chuckled at Ren from a tightly locked, dark place of his heart, his voice sultry and mocking. 

_Oh, but you do want to ravish him where he lays._

“Shut the hell up,” Ren muttered under his breath, suddenly scared of the way his heart thumped behind his sternum, loud enough to deafen out the singing choir of the soviet submarine crew. 

“Hm?” Morgana meowed from the bed. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” Ren whispered. “Go to sleep.”

“ _You_ go to sleep,” the cat muttered, obviously offended. Ren rolled his eyes.

Yusuke slept on. Unfazed by sounds or light and oblivious to the world, the artist nestled his head deeper into the pillow. 

He could sleep on. He could allow himself to relax. 

He knew he was safe. 


End file.
